ifornia 
>nal 

Ity 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


The  Man,  the  Tiger,  and  the  Snake 


The  Man,  the  Tiger, 
and  the  Snake 


By 

Ferdinand  Reyher 


G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  and  London 

Gbe    •Knickerbocker    press 
1921 


Copyright.  1921 

by 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

Printed  in  the  United  Slates  of  America 


PS 


1910848 


The  Man,  the  Tiger,  and  the  Snake 


There  is  an  old  Laos  folktale  of  a  hunter  who  rescued 
from  death  a  man,  a  tiger,  and  a  snake,  each  in  turn 
naturally  professing  gratitude  and  in  turn  pledging  aid 
should  the  hunter  ever  need  it. 

Now,  it  so  happened,  that  need  befell  the  hunter,  and 
not  being  Anglo-Saxon,  and  consequently  not  convulsed 
with  squeamishness  at  the  idea  of  cashing  in  on  favors 
previously  rendered,  he  went  forth  without  hesitation  and 
quoted  to  those  whom  he  had  befriended — provided,  of 
course,  that  he  understood  classical  Sanskrit,  which  he 
probably  didn't — the  following  verse  from  the  Hitopudesa: 

"  That  friend  only  is  the  true  one  who  is  by  when  trouble 

comes; 
Words  are  air;  a  deed  talks  louder  than  a  solo  played  on 

drums." 

Interesting,  the  working  out  of  that  legend,  inscribed 
in  ancient  temple  books  and  told  from  immemorial  times 
about  the  camp  fires  of  obscure  tribes  in  the  neglected 
hinterland  bordering  India,  Cochin-China,  and  Siam. 
And  if  you,  happening  upon  some  translation  of  the 
story  now,  imagine  that  there  is  a  significance  in  its 
development  and  denouement  extending  not  beyond  the 
remotest  jungle  gateway  touched  by  the  westerner's 
railroad;  that,  in  other  words,  the  tale  is  but  an  example 
of  a  peculiar  psychology  and  isolated  experience  of  an 

3 


unimportant  group,  with  no  universal  hold  on  human 
nature,  read  this  and  chew  the  cud  of  that  sour  reflection, 
also  from  the  Sanskrit,  written,  my  children,  by  a  bored 
Brahmin  more  than  three  thousand  years  ago: 

"All  is  known,  digested,  tested, 
Nothing  new  is  left  to  learn." 


The  Man,  the  Tiger,  and  the 
Snake 

CHAPTER  I 

STRANGE  the  fascination  a  commodity  of  trade 
may  exercise  on  a  man ;  a  lure  aside  from  the  profit 
involved;  or  a  lure  composed  of  profits  of  subtler 
kind.  A  man  may  see  in  his  trafficking  in  potash 
or  in  chicle  or  in  zinc  ore  the  accruing  benefit  to 
men,  and  actually  pay  obeisance  to  whatever 
spark  of  idealism  he  carries  about  with  him  by 
cornering  the  market  of  his  specialty.  Men  still 
find  the  same  quality  of  zest  in  growing  wheat  or 
raising  tobacco  which  the  old  Dutch  skippers  had 
in  chasing  round  the  world  after  the  scent  of  pepper 
and  fetching  home  sesame,  kapok,  gelatong,  or 
gum  copal. 

Men  arrive  at  visions  of  cooperation  not  infre 
quently  in  solitude,  following  perhaps  a  jungle 
track  after  the  exotic  future  content  of  a  Kansas 

5 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

City  grocer's  bin.  Persuade  themselves  of  the 
sacrament  of  ivory,  or  a  new  fertilizer,  or  a  wood 
lighter  than  cork.  Where  one  tempts  fever  for  an 
orchid,  another  fills  his  bones  with  sickness  search 
ing  borax  or  talc,  and  a  third  courts  sunstroke  for 
cochineal.  Manganese,  mandioca,  copra,  hashish, 
platinum,  arsenic,  cacao,  rattan,  indigo,  Herve 
matte,  Carnauba  wax — the  romance  of  man's 
pursuits !  The  interplay  of  the  so-called  domestic 
and  exotic! 

Commerce,  more  than  art  or  religion,  has  been 
mankind's  method  of  getting  acquainted  with 
itself. 

For  all  its  accompaniment  of  rapine,  throat- 
cutting,  enslaving,  torturing,  lying,  cheating, 
greed,  it  has  always  had  about  it,  too,  a  bit  of  the 
glint  of  the  Grail.  Cooper  Comlough's  Holy  Grail 
was  filled  with  crude  petroleum:  preferably  one 
containing  from  33  to  35  per  cent,  gasoline  content. 

Comlough  made  the  last  addition  on  the  sheet 
of  foolscap,  proved  the  figures,  and  pushed  the 
paper  toward  the  two  men  who  sat  across  from 
him  at  the  glass-plated  sweep  of  desk.  As  they 
bent  over  his  notes,  collating  them  with  strips 
of  ticker-tape  and  cards  scribbled  over  with  stock- 

6 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

brokers's  notations,  he  shoved  back  his  chair  and 
went  to  the  window. 

A  tall  man.  The  first  impression  was  that  of  an 
acting  rather  than  a  thinking  man — one  whose 
gestures  would  not  be  superfluous.  A  closer  ex 
amination  of  his  features  would  operate  toward  a 
revision  of  first  impressions.  His  face  would  have 
been  as  interesting  to  a  physiognomist  as  to  a 
woman,  with  its  plenitude  of  contradictory  ele 
ments. 

One  was  conscious  of  his  will-power.  It  was  not 
appended  to  a  prognathous  profile.  His  chin  was 
no  more  prominent  than  the  average,  and  his 
mouth  and  lips  more  than  the  average  in  generosity 
of  design  and  intent.  His  strength  was  thrown  up 
into  the  prominent  cheekbones,  compact  square 
forehead,  and  strong  nose.  It  was  the  lean,  taper 
ing  prelate  type  of  face,  with  that  ascetic  sag  of 
cheek  associated  with  cardinals  more  frequently 
than  with  organizers  of  oil  corporations :  tenacious, 
almost  fanatical  will;  the  dogmatic  will  to  hold  to  a 
vision  through  all  the  adversities  men  and  flesh 
are  heir  to.  This  was  the  impression  given — more 
quickly  than  it  takes  to  describe — by  a  second 
examination  of  his  face. 

7 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

The  third  examination  would  be  devoted  to  his 
eyes.  The  static  theological  self-will  of  forehead, 
cheekbones,  and  Richelieu  nose  was  belied  by  their 
play  and  vivacity.  Set  back  under  sharp  shelving 
brows,  with  a  tendency  to  narrow  like  the  begin 
ning  of  a  cowboy's  squint,  it  was  difficult  to  deter 
mine  their  exact  color.  A  variety  of  brown, 
probably.  Entrenched  behind  that  forehead, 
cheekbones,  and  nose  they  shone  like  glints  of  dark 
gold,  and  it  would  have  been  absurd  to  imagine 
that  their  steadiness  could  ever  be  shaken,  or  that 
there  could  be  another  gaze  before  which  they 
would  fall.  Unexpectedly  they  would  be  cuddled 
in  humorous  crinklings  at  the  corners,  like  a  re 
lenting  of  that  hard  upper  half  of  face. 

The  eyes  of  a  man  who  is  a  rationalist  even  in  his 
ideals;  believing  in  right,  acting  up  to  his  belief 
because  he  is  taken  with  the  sensibleness  of  such 
procedure.  The  eyes  of  a  man  who  has  ridden  long 
alone  against  the  glare  of  sands. 

Altogether  a  man  who  would  accede  to  the  law 
until  it  gyved  his  sense  of  justice ;  with  no  special 
urge  to  flatter  convention;  who  would  dream  and 
enact  his  visioning;  an  essential  rebel,  where  not 
to  rebel  meant  plodding  on  in  the  monotonous 

8 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

track  of  preceding  generations.  A  man  of  no 
especial  subtlety  between  the  extremes  of  love  and 
hate,  trust  and  distrust.  One  to  go  whole  hog  on 
either  end. 

The  foreshortened  tip  of  Manhattan  caught  little 
of  his  gaze  out  of  the  nineteenth-story  gap  in  the 
offices  of  United  Americas  Petroleum  Consolidated. 
He  only  mechanically  registered  observance  of  the 
East  River  craft  crawling  out  from  or  into  the 
Bay,  skirting  Governor's  Island  or  hugging  the 
pierheads  along  Buttermilk  Channel  and  hiving 
about  the  Atlantic  Basin.  Dimly  he  felt  late 
spring  in  the  scene,  and  that  the  late  afternoon 
violet  haze  over  there  was  Brooklyn. 

"We're  not  sitting  on  the  top  of  the  world  yet, 
Jim,"  he  said  reflectively,  without  turning.  "But 
my  optimism  on  the  effect  of  my  report  on  Utopian 
Oil  held,  despite  Updike's  congenital  pessimism." 

"Cynicism,  my  dear  Cooper!  Cynicism!"  cor 
rected  one  of  the  men  at  the  table  easily.  ' '  Never 
pessimism.  There's  a  world  of  difference,  really," 
he  said  softly. 

"Sure  ...  of  course,"  murmured  Comlough, 
with  the  assent  of  unconviction.  "The  reports 
I've  made  to  you  alone  on  the  whole  Estacado 

9 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

tract  and  the  relations  which  the  Utopian  and 
Canassus  slices  of  it  bear  to  our  plans  will  also  hold 
tighter  than  a  drum.  You'll  see,"  he  said,  staring 
out  of  the  window.  "We've  thrown  Bonsell 
against  the  wall  so  hard  that  his  teeth  must  have 
fallen  out.  It  will  take  more  capital  and  a  different 
sort  of  backing  than  they  can  touch  to  put  the 
breath  of  par  back  into  Utopian  Oil  now."  He 
paused.  "Count  number  one,"  he  said  softly; 
"to  shake  up  the  old  serpent  of  a  street  down  there 
from  the  Battery  to  Thibet  .  .  .  eventually!" 

He  pressed  his  finger  tips  with  a  strained  light 
ness  against  the  broad  pane  of  glass. 

"Somewhere  toward  the  end  of  this  pleasant 
month  of  May,"  he  continued,  his  voice  held  low, 
"we  shall  be  in  absolute  control  of  the  greatest  oil 
and  general  industrial  project  in  the  southwest; 
and,  in  time — who  knows? — of  the  greatest  in  the 
world!" 

Behind  him,  as  he  stood  staring  contemplatively 
out  on  the  Bay  and  Brooklyn,  seeing  them  not  as 
themselves  but  as  an  illimitable,  desolate  Texan 
and  New  Mexican  tract,  the  two  men  at  the  table 
spread  papers  from  a  folder.  There  were  four  full 
pages  cut  from  different  newspapers,  a  sheaf  of 

10 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

clippings  from  financial  journals  and  an  illustrated 
article  out  of  the  Saturday  industrial  section  of  an 
evening  paper.  The  world  and  its  investors  and 
speculators  had  been  reading  these  reports  of  Com- 
lough's  on  the  exploitation  of  the  great  tract  known 
as  Utopian  Acres  at  breakfast,  lunches,  and  lun 
cheons  and  dinners,  in  subways  and  in  limousines, 
going  to  and  from  offices  for  more  than  a  week. 
They  had  consequently  become  instructed  upon 
the  financial  status  and  intentions  of  the  promoters 
of  Utopian  Oil,  whose  stocks  ten  days  ago,  when 
the  flotation  of  a  new  issue  to  increase  the  capital 
ization  to  $10,000,000  was  announced,  had  been 
quoted  round  47  and  48,  and  that  day,  reaching 
what  represented  the  bedrock  value  of  the  com 
pany's  assets,  been  offered  at  less  than  6,  and  no 
buyers. 

His  reports  had  been  made  public  on  the  eve  of 
a  campaign  to  drive  Utopian  skywards.  Based 
upon  two  years  of  investigation  of  the  territory 
involved,  his  word  was  authoritative,  and  par 
ticularly  so  because  there  was  no  evidence  of  any 
special  interest  of  his  own  in  the  standing  of 
Utopian  stocks.  Two  weeks  before,  in  cooperation 
with  W.  E.  Oiler,  secretary  of  the  Texan  Oil 

ii 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Investors'  Society,  he  had  sent  out  of  Wichita 
Falls  his  first  public  statement.  It  was  a  general 
ization  to  the  effect  that  of  between  two  and  three 
hundred  companies  organized  in  the  developed 
district  nearest  the  Utopian  Acres  section,  only  six 
paid  dividends,  and  of  this  number  not  more  than 
one  could  liquidate  to-day  at  par,  dividends  al 
ready  paid  out  included.  It  was  from  this  general 
examination  that  Comlough's  reports,  now  issued 
from  New  York,  had  passed  to  the  particular — to 
Utopian  Oil. 

His  reports  were  crisp,  scientific,  effective. 
There  was  nothing  petulant  or  petty  in  them. 
They  were  detached  in  tone  even  where  they 
attacked.  He  bore  himself  in  public  print  like  a 
man  whose  only  purpose  in  "riding"  Utopian  Oil 
or  any  corporation,  his  own  included,  was  that  of 
the  square  principled  industrial  organizer  in  the 
cause  of  honest  enterprise  versus  dishonest  pro 
motion.  But  he  did  have  a  nearer  and  more 
material  interest  in  Utopian  Oil. 

As  president  of  United  Americas  Petroleum  Con 
solidated,  sturdiest  of  the  younger  and  independent 
oils,  he  controlled  over  a  million  acres  in  South 
America,  Mexico,  and  the  United  States.  Produc- 

12 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ing,  refining,  and  marketing  on  a  scale  which  made 
him  the  leader  among  the  younger  oil  men,  there 
was  more  in  him  than  a  desire  for  just  success  and 
the  accumulation  of  wealth — an  elaborate  sense  of 
industrial  adventure. 

As  to  most  men  of  his  type,  the  opportunity  for 
which  he  had  been  waiting  came,  because,  again 
like  men  of  his  type,  he  had  unconsciously  been 
creating  that  opportunity. 

Across  the  Llano  Estacado,  or  Staked  Plain  of 
Texas,  he  acquired  a  vast,  irregular  tract  between 
the  Colorado  River  in  the  so-called  Puma  Hills  of 
western  Texas,  and  the  Pecos  River  in  New 
Mexico.  It  was  north  of  the  Edwards  Plateau, 
where  some  of  the  large  companies  were  sinking 
test  wells.  Months  upon  months,  with  three 
picked  engineers  and  two  of  the  best  geologists  of 
the  Mid-Continent  field,  he  had  packed  over  the 
land  until  he  knew  it  as  well  as  he  knew  Fifth 
Avenue.  Better.  He  had  found  seepages  of 
high-grade  oil,  asphalt  and  live  oil  springs.  In  an 
out-of-the-way  corner  he  had  drilled  a  successful 
well,  and  shut  it  down  again.  Four  other  secret 
wells,  being  drilled  at  widely  separated  spots,  were 
revealing  extraordinary  logs. 

13 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

But  development  only  on  a  scale  hardly  ever 
before  attempted  was  possible  there.  The  physical 
difficulties  of  producing  oil  were  only  incidental  to 
the  almost  insurmountable  difficulties  of  beginning 
even  the  humblest  industrial  operations  in  a  terri 
tory  where  every  transportation,  production,  and 
living  facility  had  first  to  be  created  or  imported. 
Railroads  had  to  be  built;  reservoirs,  pipe  lines, 
refineries,  gas  and  steel  storage  tanks,  pumping 
and  compounding  stations;  the  hydraulic  poten 
tialities  of  the  streams  between  the  Colorado  and 
the  Pecos  to  be  transformed  into  working  power. 

A  general  industrial  development  which  would 
open  up  a  wilderness.  It  was  a  vision  which  he 
seemed  to  have  been  dreaming  all  his  life.  To 
achieve  that  vision  was  the  thing  he  wanted  more 
than  he  had  wanted  any  save  one  other  certain 
thing,  which  had,  however,  escaped  him.  As  he 
stood,  looking  out  of  the  window,  he  thought  of 
Marcia  Nolan — Lynn — now,  and  he  shook  his 
head  with  involuntary  bruskness  to  free  his  mind 
of  her  picture. 

He  had  come  back  to  Broadway  and  Exchange 
Place.  He  had  cornered  men ;  all  sorts  of  them ;  his 
own  associates  and  directors ;  consulting  engineers, 

14 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

and  the  big  moneyed  men  upon  whom,  in  the  last 
analysis,  operations  of  the  magnitude  he  con 
templated  were  dependent.  In  their  own  offices  he 
had  made  them  see  that  untouched  expanse  of  oil 
land  as  vividly  as  he  saw  it :  humming  with  activity ; 
the  reservoir  of  a  new  factor  in  the  oil  world,  which 
would  make  him  a  power  throughout  the  whole 
world ;  a  dominion  where  the  experience  and  real 
izations  he  had  gained  through  years  of  shoulder- 
to-shoulder  work  in  the  oil  fields  with  every  variety 
of  man,  bringing  him  understanding  of  the  stark 
forces  of  labor  in  all  its  phases,  would  be  translated 
into  a  new  sort  of  program  of  toil  which  would  be 
more  than  a  candle  gleam  in  a  troubled  world, 
would  be  a  searchlight,  rather,  flashing  out  prac 
tical  solutions  of  the  tangle  of  modern  industry. 
A  program  with  more  in  it  than  company  insurance 
for  employees,  decent  company  housing,  club  rooms 
and  stores,  profit-  and  stock-sharing  privileges. 

There  was  in  his  mind  the  determination  to  work 
even  more  strenuously  at  getting  mankind  out  of 
men  than  oil  out  of  the  earth.  He  had  pondered 
over  the  meaning  of  the  Wheatland  Hop  Riots, 
the  Phoenix  uprising,  the  lumber  and  longshoremen 
and  Brotherhood  strikes;  over  the  organization  of 

15 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

such  movements  as  the  Grangers,  the  Non-Par- 
tisan  League,  the  I.  W.  W.,  the  Farmers'  Alliance, 
and  European  cooperative  societies,  until  he  had 
come  to  the  conclusion,  ahead  of  most  other 
prominent  industrial  figures,  that  the  preservation 
of  Americanism  and  the  progress  of  the  world 
alike,  called  for  something  different  than  the  disas 
trous  revolution-breeding  Bourbonism  of  a  hysteri 
cal  attorney  general,  and  an  Alexander  III  secret 
service. 

The  sour,  filthy  bunkhouses,  the  hire-and-fire 
policy,  the  seasonal  call  and  the  unseasonal  re 
jection  of  the  migratory  labor  casuals — he  knew 
well  enough  from  first  hand  witnessing  what  that 
led  to ;  and  in  consequence  he  dreamed  a  dream  of 
a  new  order.  It  fitted  in  his  mind  like  a  perfect 
mechanism.  There  was  nothing  dead  about  this 
plan  of  his.  It  lived  already,  down  to  the  very 
sites  throughout  the  country  for  his  experimenting 
stations  for  the  perfection  of  oil-using  engines,  to 
the  very  publicity  campaign  planned  on  such  an 
unprecedented  scale  that  it  was  in  reality  the 
propaganda  of  a  new  social  and  industrial  experi 
ment. 

If! 

16 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

There  were  two  ifs. 

The  tract  he  held  was  traversed  in  two  places 
by  other  holdings — the  Utopian  Acres,  so-called, 
and  the  Canassus  tract  of  more  than  150,000  acres, 
owned  by  the  Texan  Improvement  and  Petroleum 
Corporation.  These  two  holdings,  totaling  nearly 
four  hundred  thousand  acres,  had  been  recently 
bought  in  at  less  than  fifty  cents  an  acre  for  am 
biguous  and  flash  promotion  advertising  purposes 
in  connection  with  a  restricted  acreage  in  Burk- 
burnett  and  a  dozen  moribund  wells. 

He  needed  both  holdings  to  secure  the  homo 
geneity  of  his  own  tract  and  to  carry  out  plans 
involving  railroading  and  water-power  problems. 
Furthermore,  he  required  the  intact  control  of  the 
entire  territory  in  order  to  secure  loans  from  the 
two  men  who  would  be  inclined  to  give  them  to 
him,  Hargreaves  and  Colonel  Maurice. 

Utopian  Oil,  formed  originally  by  the  grace  of 
that  loophole  in  Texas  statutes  permitting  the 
organization  of  practically  unlicensed  and  un 
restricted  "joint  stock  associations,"  in  which  out 
side  stockholders  have  little  protection  against  the 
promoters,  had  by  accident  and  not  through  the 
good  intentions  of  its  officers,  brought  in  two  good 

17 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

wells  in  a  shallow  section.  Enough  to  secure  the 
reincorporation  of  the  concern  in  the  stricter 
State  of  New  York,  and  an  increase  of  the  capital 
ization  from  a  million  to  two  and  a  half  millions. 
Control  was  retained  by  a  half-dozen  men  with 
Alexander  Bonsell,  of  his  kind  the  shrewdest  along 
the  Curb,  at  their  head.  Things  went  along 
quietly,  streamers  of  rosy  promises  issuing  from  the 
offices  of  Utopian  Oil.  Overcome  with  their  initial 
luck  the  promoters  made  some  honest  attempts  to 
bring  in  other  wells,  without  success.  The  stock 
was  still  maintaining  its  prestige;  going  higher 
daily,  in  fact,  on  the  receding  glory  of  those  two 
chance  wells,  but  Bonsell  and  the  others  foresaw 
the  time  when  promises  would  fail  to  bolster  up 
their  stock;  when  the  market  would  learn  what 
they  already  knew :  that  the  two  wells  were  falling 
off  daily  with  the  end  in  sight.  They  did  the  ob 
vious  and  ever-successful  thing:  they  bought  in 
five  decadent  wells  at  ruinous  prices,  and  an 
enormous  tract  in  another  part  of  Texas,  which  in 
an  advertising  circular  would  have  an  air  of  being 
smack  in  the  center  of  the  most  proved  of  proved 
oil  ground.  In  the  last  week  of  April  the  company 
announced  thereupon  a  second  increase  of  capital- 

18 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ization  and  another  issue  of  stock,  bringing  it  up 
to  ten  million  dollars. 

Before  this  resplendent  new  issue  really  arrived, 
Comlough's  reports  sent  the  previous  stock  top 
pling,  and  the  only  new  shares  distributed  were 
those  acquired  by  the  inner  ring. 

He  knew  that  every  financial  move  he  had  made 
from  the  day  he  published  his  first  attack  on 
Utopian  had  been  scrutinized.  He  pictured  Alex 
ander  Bonsell,  tall,  untidily  dressed,  cadaverous, 
twitching  his  cheek  muscles,  wrapping  and  un 
wrapping  his  lengthy  legs  round  his  chair  and 
morosely  submitting  to  the  hate  which  must  be 
gnawing  at  him.  He  would  be  in  the  state  of  mind 
where  he  would  rather  blow  up  the  building  in 
which  Utopian  Oil  had  its  offices  than  permit 
Comlough  to  touch  a  single  share  of  the  stock  for 
his  gain.  Neither  could  he  operate  through  dum 
mies.  The  market  was  dead,  so  far  as  Utopian 
Oil  was  concerned.  With  all  the  possibilities  of 
development,  which  he  had  freely  admitted  in 
his  published  statements,  the  capital  required  to 
undertake  such  development  of  a  tract  which  was 
virtually  outside  the  pale  of  all  labor,  railroad, 
and  disbursing  centers,  was  something  entirely  be- 

19 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

yond  the  resources  of  the  original  promoters,  and 
a  proposition  having  no  impelling  appeal  to  in 
terests  who  had  less  remote  projects  to  absorb 
what  ready  money  was  procurable.  Consequently 
attempts  by  anyone,  known  or  unknown,  to  pur 
chase  the  discredited  stock  in  bulk  would  be  re 
garded  with  instant  suspicion.  The  faintest 
manifestation  of  any  direct  interest  of  his  own  in 
it,  would,  of  course,  send  it  rocketing  again  and 
invalidate  every  syllable  of  his  reports. 

Behind  him  Aiken  tapped  his  finger  nails  with  a 
pencil. 

"We've  got  to  work  out  a  way  to  get  in  behind 
Aleck  Bonsell,  or  buy  him  out,"  he  said. 

"Buy  out  Aleck  Bonsell?"  questioned  Updike, 
raising  his  eyebrows.  "Now — Jim!  How  unique 
of  you!"  he  said,  with  his  cynical  smile. 

"That's  what  Colonel  Maurice  will  tell  you  to 
night,  Cooper." 

Aiken  lifted  his  voice  to  draw  the  attention  of 
the  motionless  figure  at  the  window. 

' ' '  Buy  'em  out ! '  That's  Maurice's  credo, ' '  said 
Updike.  "I'm  with  Cooper  on  this  question, 
however.  I  prefer  that  we  handle  this,  rather  than 
Maurice.  I  appreciate  the  handsome  old  gentle- 

20 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

man's  good  will  and  backing  on  occasions;  but  as 
a  daily  mentor  I  prefer  to  meet  the  Colonel  as  a 
fellow  club  member  on  dull  evenings." 

"Suppose  we  can't  lay  hands  on  enough  Utop 
ian  to  jolt  the  rest  of  it  out  of  Aleck's  hands  ?  Sup 
pose  none  of  his  crowd  will  let  go  in  the  next  three 
weeks?" 

"Dear  Jim,  we  can't  sail  'twixt  sea  and  moon  on 
suppositions,"  commented  Updike  dryly.  "Or 
do  you  really  suppose  the  frailty  of  human  flesh 
and  the  yearning  for  lump  sums  of  ready  cash  have 
both  made  detours  round  all  of  Bonsell's  regiment 
— Cann,  McAleeman,  Huffaker,  Bainbridge — 
Bainbridge  particularly?" 

"I  do.    Bonsell  picks  stickers." 

"Tommyrot!"  snapped  Updike.  His  little 
cynical  smile  immediately  replaced  the  momentary 
tautness  of  his  thin,  closed  lips.  "You  take  an 
incorrigibly  romantic  view  of  life,  James,"  he  said 
lightly.  "You  can  get  to  anybody  outside  of  the 
ungodly  few  whose  immediate  desires  are  unquot 
able  in  terms  of  financial  urgency." 

"That's  Maurice's  attitude  or  credo,  as  you 
call  it." 

"Not  at  all,  not  at  all,"  corrected  Updike,  a 

21 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

trifle  grieved.  ' '  The  Colonel  holds  that  there  is  no 
one  whose  immediate  desires  are  not  to  be  reduced 
to  figures  of  instantaneous  pecuniary  yearning, 
little  or  big.  I  make  a  few,  as  I  say,  ungodly  ex 
ceptions.  An  important  difference,"  insisted  Up 
dike  meticulously. 

" Aleck  Bonsell?" 

"In  this  case,  decidedly  so.  Aleck  would  blow 
up  Nassau  Street  if  he  could  be  sure  of  locating  our 
friend  Mr.  Comlough  somewhere  in  the  center  of 
the  upheaval.  But  give  the  others  two  or  three 
weeks  to  cool  off  and  we  should  be  able  to  get 
round  them.  Huffaker  or  Bainbridge,  for  instance. 
Just  give  us  their  block  of  stock  to  dump  like  a  can 
of  ashes,  and  see  what  would  happen  to  the  others. 
Why,  man,  you  could  go  out  there  with  a  pocket 
full  of  dimes  and  buy  up  the  whole  cake  round 
Bonsell's  slice." 

Aiken  leaned  back,  absently  studying  the  papers 
before  him. 

"All  right,"  he  said  meditatively;  "but  when  all 
is  said,  and  particularly  when  all  is  done,  I  think 
we'll  have  been  wiser  to  follow  the  Maurice  axiom, 
and  bring  them  out.  When  we  do  get  control,  how 
do  you  expect  us  ever  to  live  down  this  smoking 

22 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

them  out  in  the  press  and  then  running  round  to 
the  back  door  to  sneak  in  ourselves?" 

Comlough  turned  from  the  window. 

"That  is  an  important  point,  Jim,"  he  said 
seriously;  "but  you'll  see  in  time  how  any  other 
course  was  impossible.  I  could  have  waited,  for 
example,  until  they  had  scattered  all  their  stock; 
played  the  game  with  them  clean  through  and  then 
gone  out  and  fought  them  in  the  open  market, 
collected  proxies  and  skimped  and  scamped 
invaluable  time  away  in  a  two-by-two  fight  in 
which  shoals  of  small  fry  would  have  been  crushed. 
Buying  them  out  at  their  own  figure  was,  of  course, 
never  to  be  thought  of.  It  may  seem  sophistry, 
but  I  never  denied  the  presence  of  oil  on  their  tract. 
I  merely  made  matters  clear.  Utopian  capitalized 
at  ten  millions  was  dressed  up  about  a  thousand 
times  bigger  than  Bonsell  believed  his  stock  was 
worth.  He  had  no  idea  of  developing  it  for  the 
stockholders  because,  first  of  all,  he  had  put  what, 
with  his  lack  of  knowledge  of  the  sort  of  land  he 
held,  was  a  blown-up  figure  on  his  company  for 
stock-issuing  purposes.  He's  not  an  oil  man — 
he's  a  bond  shark.  He  hadn't  an  idea  of  what  he'd 
be  up  against  in  developing  Utopian  Acres  in  case 

23 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

he  had  another  lucky  windfall,  and  struck  oil 
again  in  the  Estacado,  with  the  toughest  shale  and 
deepest  strata  to  puncture  in  the  State.  When  I 
met  that  expert  of  theirs,  Kilcairn,  out  there  he  was 
hunting  for  moonshine,  and  the  investigations  he 
made  in  that  field  are  exactly  as  much  as  Bonsell 
and  his  crowd  know  about  the  oil  situation.  It's 
the  same  thing  with  Mangin,  Searles,  Levy,  and 
that  cluster  of  fantastic  highbinders  of  the  Texan 
Improvement  Company." 

He  spread  both  hands  on  the  table  over  the 
clippings  and  leaned  toward  the  two  men. 

"Oil  to  me,  boys,  is  a  little  more  than  oil,  really. 
Oil's  got  pretty  darn  near  a  personality  to  me; 
just  as  the  men  actually  working  in  it  have ;  as  all 
working  men  have.  I  never  go  through  the  streets 
on  ash  day — I  actually  don't! — that  I  don't  say  to 
myself  the  time  will  come  when  we'll  laugh  at  the 
memory  of  having  pestered  ourselves  with  all  that 
mess:  cinders,  dust,  shoveling,  forfeited  space, 
waste,  and  inefficiency.  The  time  when  our  apart 
ment-houses  and  office  buildings  will  be  heated  by 
oil  furnaces,  cutting  the  gangs  we  need  to  heat 
them  now  into  a  few  men  and  no  dirt.  I  don't 
look  out  of  that  window  on  those  tugs  and  liners 

24 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

coming  in  or  going  out  of  the  Bay,  without  thinking 
two  thousand  merchant  vessels,  eight  million  tons 
of  shipping,  burning  oil  to-day!  The  Leviathan 
may  be  out  there  now.  She  burns  six  thousand 
tons  a  round  trip.  That  takes  three  or  four  days 
and  nights  to  shovel  into  her.  And  we  could  bun 
ker  her  with  oil  in  a  day  without  getting  in  the  way 
of  her  cargo  loading !  I  hardly  ever  see  an  engine- 
boiler  any  more,  from  a  sixty-five  hundred  horse 
power  Hotchkiss-Duval  to  a  little  Dressel,  that  I 
don't  mentally  convert  it  into  an  oil  consumer, 
and  think  of  the  time  when  boats  bigger  than  the 
coming  Moltke  will  go  steaming  out  with  one- tenth 
of  the  Leviathan's  present  crew  of  firemen,  ash 
handlers,  and  coal  passers,  and  a  cruising  radius 
five  times  as  great  on  an  oil  supply  taking  up  less 
space  than  her  coal  now. 

"I  have  respect  for  a  commodity  running  six 
million  autos,  or  whatever  the  figures  are — some 
thing  like  that — lighting  farms,  heating  steel 
forges  and  metal-treating  and  annealing  furnaces; 
supplying  the  juice  for  almost  everything  that 
runs,  from  a  tractor  kicking  up  a  smooth  shaving 
of  the  Mississippi  Valley  to  one  of  those  planes 
droning  out  from  Governor's  Island  at  a  hundred 

25 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

and  fifty  an  hour.  The  man  behind  that  commod 
ity  is  in  a  game  that's  shoving  up  existence  and 
business  and  methods  of  work.  I  look  at  oil 
differently,  I  presume  to  say,  than  Bonsell  and  his 
crowd,  or  Mangin  and  his;  and  as  long  as  our  Blue 
Sky  laws  and  other  dulcet  inducements  to  crook 
promoters  are  what  they  are,  I'm  going  to  bust 
through  in  my  way  just  as  I'm  doing  now,  and 
hang  the  things  men  think  and  say  of  me ! " 


26 


CHAPTER  II 

A  TOUCH  of  that  tranquillity  which  belongs 
peculiarly  to  May  seemed  even  to  have  descended 
upon  Broadway.  Comlough  threw  his  light  over 
coat  on  the  rear  seat  of  the  automobile  which  was 
waiting  for  him. 

"Go  round  to  the  Commercial  Trust,  Tom;  I'm 
going  to  stretch  my  legs  and  sniff  a  bit  of  May- 
time." 

As  he  passed  the  Clinton  Loan  and  Trust  Com 
pany  he  heard  his  name  called.  From  a  touring 
car  standing  by  the  curb  in  front  of  the  bank  a 
woman  was  waving  to  him.  He  went  quickly  to 
her,  hat  doffed,  hand  outstretched;  with  that  queer 
heady  tenderness  with  which  the  presence  of 
Marcia  Nolan  always  filled  him.  Not  even  after 
seven  years  could  he  quite  reconcile  himself  to  the 
fact  that  she  was  Marcia  Lynn. 

"So  it  has  come  to  this,  Cooper — street  meet 
ings!"  she  exclaimed,  her  eyes  alive  with  pleasure. 

' '  Marcia !  My,  but  I'm  glad  to  see  you ! "  he  said. 
27 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER.  AND  SNAKE 

It  was  fine  when  he  was  standing  talking  to  her; 
but  it  was  like  taking  a  cold  plunge  in  icy  weather 
to  get  to  that  point. 

"Glad?  Tut-tut,  forswear  not  thy  soul!"  she 
laughed.  "No  good-bye  when  you  departed;  no 
little  hello  in  the  times  you  came  back,  and  just 
one  stingy  card  from  Texas  or  one  of  those  melo 
dramatic  states — just  one  stingy  card,  most 
reverend  signer!  Why,  for  all  I  knew  Cooper 
Comlough  might  have  become  a  citizen  of  Pata 
gonia.  Tell  me,  Cooper,  are  you  a  citizen  of  Pata 
gonia  now?" 

Usually  self-possessed,  almost  grave,  for  the 
last  several  years  Marcia  greeted  him  with  these 
half -reproachful  railleries.  It  made  it  much  easier 
for  him,  being  a  man  who  had  had  not  a  few  occa 
sions  to  find  refuge  in  humor  when  he  thought  of 
her.  But  something  in  her  manner  at  times 
puzzled  him. 

"You  know  what  corking  friends  the  pen  and  I 
are,"  he  answered  now.  "You're  right,  though,  I 
am  part  ruffian  for  not  having  written." 

"Complete  ruffian,  Cooper!  Evans  heard  you 
were  back  over  a  week  ago.  I  was  in  Hempstead 
until  this  morning  getting  the  house  ready.  But 

28 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

I  knew,  too,  when  all  those  articles  of  yours  came 
out.  Didn't  you  use  a  pen  on  them,  Cooper?" 
she  asked  slyly.  "Stenographer,  I  suppose.  The 
English  was — well,  stenographic,  in  some  places," 
she  poked  at  him.  "Sort  of  walking  round,  hair 
rumpled,  what-word-next,  forceful-speech  Eng 
lish!" 

"Dry-as-dust  stuff,"  he  apologized,  with  a  faint 
twinge  of  author's  pride.  "Didn't  dream  you'd 
ever  get  far  enough  in  it  to  find  the  mistakes." 

"But  I  did!"  she  reproved.  Her  eyes  became 
serious,  and  deep,  giving  her  face  that  wise  dignity 
he  loved.  "And  you  know  I  did.  Tell  me — your 
work  means  a  lot  to  you,  doesn't  it?  I  mean  out 
side  of  the  money  involved.  You  sort  of  dream 
things  in  the  oil  industry  the  way  some  men  dream 
things  in  pictures,  in  social  reform,  or  in  steel  and 
ships?" 

His  ringers  tightened  on  the  brim  of  his  hat. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  almost  softly;  and  then  he  sud 
denly  wanted  to  get  away. 

Her  next  words  held  him  there. 

"Tell  me — your  work  meaning  much  to  you — 
you  see,  I  have  grown  curious  as  to  what  goes 
on  in  the  minds  of  men — "  interrupting  herself 

29 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

lightly,  and  yet  as  though  suddenly  confused, 
" — this  work  of  yours,  was  it  something  which 
could  be  shared;  by  a  woman,  for  example?" 

The  question  seared  him.  The  knuckles  over 
the  brim  of  his  hat  were  white  from  the  grip  with 
which  he  held  it.  He  hardly  dared  look  at  her. 
When  he  did  she  was  not  looking  at  him.  He  saw, 
too,  that  she  was  not  even  thinking  of  him  directly; 
that,  somehow,  whatever  he  answered  would  be 
no  answer  to  her  question  at  all.  Yet  he  wanted 
desperately  to  get  away ;  but  he  replied. 

"Yes,"  he  said  softly.  He  thought  the  set  of  her 
chin  was  a  trifle  firmer ;  that  the  point  of  it  came  a 
trifle  higher  as  he  answered  thus:  "  Yes." 

Exquisitely  groomed,  with  the  air  of  wearing 
beautiful  simple  things  for  no  love  of  dress,  but 
as  the  unconsciously  appropriate  garbing  of  the 
beautiful  simple  spirit  which  was  Marcia  Nolan — 
Lynn — herself;  a  silken  strand  of  hair  escaped 
from  under  her  toque  with  willful  f etchingness ;  the 
straight  fine  nose;  the  firm  lips  with  that  faintest 
crook  at  the  left  corner  of  soft,  perceiving  humor; 
her  eyes,  blend  of  grey  and  turquoise,  alight  with 
brave,  human  understanding.  She  was  the  epit 
ome  of  all  desirable  things  in  life  for  him;  in  a 

30 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

way,  the  end  of  life;  and  for  him,  the  one  thing 
which  life  could  not  bring.  Always  this  reverent 
appraisal  of  her,  and  the  reflection  of  big  defeat 
in  having  lost  her,  flashed  through  his  mind  when 
she  stood  before  him.  Something  in  her  manner, 
perhaps  the  strange  question  she  had  asked  him, 
to-day  sharpened  the  outlines  of  this  commingled 
inner  and  outer  picture  of  her.  However,  the  sense 
of  loss  which  she  always  gave  him  had  increased 
so  greatly  in  recent  years  that  he  had  avoided  her 
and  Lynn  himself,  who  had  been  his  closest  friend. 

"How  are  little  Marcia  and  the  boy — and 
Evans?"  he  asked  abruptly,  to  break  that  transi 
tory  tenseness  between  them,  and  also  to  get 
round  to  a  point  of  departure. 

"The  children  are  splendid,  Cooper,"  she  an 
swered,  meeting  his  gaze  tranquilly.  "You  must 
come  to  see  them,  if  not  us.  They're  always 
asking  for  you.  I'm  a  little  worried  about  Evans. 
He's  been  working  so  hard  lately  it's  telling  on  his 
nerves.  I  have  been  trying  to  carry  him  off  to 
Knollynn  for  a  spell  and  had  it  all  arranged  last 
week  when  something  began  to  happen  to  the 
market.  Then  I  came  in  to  take  him  away  to 
day,  and  this  afternoon  he  telephoned  off  again. 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

I  am  waiting  now  to  learn  the  reason  why,  or 
die." 

Evans  Lynn  was  a  vice-president  of  the  Clinton 
Loan  and  Trust  Company.  It  was  long  after 
banking  hours,  and  when  she  first  called  to  him 
Comlough  had  not  associated  the  well-known 
building  with  Evans. 

"Didn't  know  the  market  ever  affected  him," 
he  laughed.  "Being  a  banking  officer  has  the  call 
over  the  developing  game — keeps  you  out  of 
temptation  and  worry.  The  worst  those  fellows 
have  to  do  is  sweat  over  a  new-style  safety  vault 
or  a  lost  fraction.  The  Clinton  Trust  must  have 
loaned  money  to  Russia — that's  about  the  only 
legitimate  worry  I  can  credit  to  Evans." 

She  smiled;  but  he  detected  the  shadow  of 
anxiety  in  her  smile. 

"I — don't  know  what  it  is — but  he's  quite 
worried  lately." 

"Evans  wouldn't  want  you  to  worry  about  it, 
Marcia." 

"That's  it — "  she  stopped,  as  though  to  check 
the  words,  and  then  smiled  as  though  to  erase 
them  now  that  she  had  unthinkingly  spoken  them. 
But  the  two  words,  "That's  it!"  came  as  an  echo 

32 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

to  the  question  she  had  put  a  little  while  before  to 
him,  and  her  smile  told  Comlough  many  things. 
Endowed  with  an  intelligence  inferior  to  none  of 
which  he  knew,  among  either  men  or  women,  she 
had  tried  in  the  first  years  of  her  marriage  to  use 
it  on  terms  of  mental  equality  with  her  husband. 
How  she  had  failed,  Comlough  did  not  know;  but 
he  knew  now  that  she  had  failed.  She  had  become 
what  ages  of  women  had  become  before  her  and  for 
some  time  yet  will  continue  to  become — "beloved 
wives"  and  "beloved  mothers" — knowing  less  of 
their  husbands  and  men  children  outside  their 
homes  than  casual  companions  might  learn  casu 
ally.  The  conventions  of  Lynn  and  her  own  family 
had  borne  her  down.  But  the  two  words  of  hurt 
agreement  to  Comlough's  remark  that  Lynn  would 
not  wish  her  to  worry  about  his  business  affairs, 
the  smile  with  which  she  sought  to  delete  them, 
the  question  she  had  asked  him — "This  work  of 
yours,  was  it  something  which  could  be  shared,  by 
a  woman,  for  example?" — indicated  that  all  her 
old  intellectual  longing  and  rebellion  was  still  alive 
within  her;  too  vital  to  be  suppressed  utterly.  For 
a  moment  he  had  the  embarrassment  of  spying  on 
her  privacy. 

33 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

He  glanced  at  the  bank  clock.  Quarter  of  six! 
He  extended  his  hand. 

"I'd  like  to  wait  for  Evans ;  but  you'll  excuse  me, 
won't  you,  Marcia?  I've  got  a  three-  or  four-hour 
session  with  Hargreaves  and  Colonel  Maurice,  and 
I'm  due  at  the  Commercial  Trust  to  pick  them  up." 

"But  can't  we  have  dinner  together?  I  think 
Evans  will  want  to  stay  downtown." 

"No  end  of  sorry,  Marcia — but  I'm  slated  to  go 
up  to  Hargreave's." 

"Earnest  laborer!"  she  laughed.  "Promise 
you  will  come  up  some  night  soon.  Call  up  Evans, 
won't  you,  Cooper?  Find  out  when  he  will  have 
time  to  grace  his  home  again  for  dinner.  Promise 
— for  if  you  don't,  I  promise  I  will  come  for  you 
myself!" 

He  laughed,  shook  hands,  promised,  and  with  a 
greeting  of  love  to  her  children,  hurried  off. 

Again,  as  upon  countless  previous  occasions  he 
took  a  kind  of  spiritual  inventory  of  himself,  and 
again  confronted  with  old  puzzlement  the  question : 
Why  had  he  failed  where  Lynn  succeeded?  Love 
wasn't  luck;  never  where  a  woman  like  Marcia  was 
concerned.  He  had  known  her  longer  than  Lynn, 
in  fact.  Through  their  college  years  they  had 

34 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

divided  equally  her  favor.  Through  their  subse 
quent  years  in  a  graduate  mining  school,  on  the 
one  hand,  and  law  school,  on  the  other,  she  had 
evinced  no  partiality.  Then  he  had  spent  two 
years'  apprenticeship  in  the  Great  Superior  Copper 
Mine,  while  Lynn  was  in  Buenos  Aires  for  his 
uncle's  bank,  and  she  was  in  Europe.  Then — she 
had  refused  him.  A  year  later  her  engagement  to 
Lynn  was  announced ;  another  year  later,  and  they 
were  married. 

Just  in  what  had  he  been  lacking?  It  was  not 
money.  The  prospects  and  connections  of  Lynn 
and  himself  were  equal,  and  monetary  considera 
tions  would  never  have  influenced  her.  Lynn  was 
handsome,  devilish  handsome,  in  fact;  with  that 
air  of  his  of  breeding  and  of  stepping  full-grown 
from  a  line  of  forefathers  who  had  also  been  darkly, 
suavely  handsome  devotees  of  good  form.  He  had 
always  had  a  fascination  for  women;  unselfishly 
enough  Comlough  had  admitted  this  of  his  class 
mate  and  roommate  in  days  when  it  meant  more 
to  a  youth's  pride  than  it  could  possibly  mean  to  a 
man  who  had  learned  pretty  generally  to  recast  old 
values.  Only  still,  a  little  wisfully,  he  felt  cheated 
that  Marcia,  too,  had  been  drawn  by  Lynn's 

35 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

fascination,  even  while  he  wondered  whether 
this  were  true.  The  fact  remained,  no  less  hurting 
than  on  the  day  he  had  first  learned  it  definitely, 
Marcia  Nolan  had  preferred  Evans  Lynn  to  Cooper 
Comlough. 

He  wasted  no  thoughts  wondering  what  business 
difficulties  were  worrying  Lynn  at  the  moment. 

The  Terry  shelf  clock  in  Hargreave's  library 
gave  a  single  deep  chime  for  half -past  eleven  as 
Comlough  said  good-night  to  the  banker.  He 
paused  on  the  sidewalk  to  light  a  cigarette.  The 
night  was  lovely  May  incarnate;  matched  to  the 
spring  burgeoning  within  himself.  Hargreaves  and 
Maurice  would  back  him!  In  this  day  and  age, 
more  than  ever,  the  great  loans  are  given  more 
upon  personality  than  upon  collateral.  Personality 
still  remains  the  highest  gilt-edge  security  pro 
curable.  This  is  right;  it  is  human  and  funda 
mental. 

He  threw  back  his  head  and  breathed  deeply. 
He  had  persuaded  Colonel  Maurice,  customarily 
as  cold  as  his  snow-white  moustache  and  his  ice- 
blue  eyes,  to  relinquish  for  once  his  pet  tactic: 
"Buy  'em  out,  sir!"  despite  the  fact  that  the 

36 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Colonel  insisted  that  Comlough  was  "a  young 
man  with  ideas  but  an  aversion  for  simple  direct 
means  of  carrying  them  out,  like  all  young  men!" 

"Handle  it  yourself,  then,  Comlough.  Keep 
our  names  out  of  it,"  said  Colonel  Maurice;  "but 
if  you  don't  get  control  of  the  whole  Estacado  by 
your  methods  before  June,"  he  insisted,  as  he  had 
said  he  would  on  a  previous  occasion,  "we  shall 
take  it  over,  to  do  it  our  way,  or  not  at  all." 

Of  Comlough's  industrial  reorganization  pro 
gram  Hargreave  said: 

"It's  been  attempted  in  a  measu're  in  established 
plants,  Comlough,  Never  heard  of  anybody  going 
out  into  the  wilds  with  notions  like  that  to  chop 
Utopia  out  of  the  woods  after  first  chopping  it  out 
of  the  market.  But  go  to  it.  Maybe  you've  hit  on 
a  remedy  for  to-morrow's  troubles.  Try  it  hard." 

Comlough  had  been  indifferently  conscious  of 
footsteps  behind  him.  He  half  turned  as  they 
sounded  sharply  beside  him.  His  arm  was  gripped. 

"Cooper!"  The  familiar,  modulated  voice 
startled  him. 

"Why — hello — Evans!  Where'd  you  drop 
from?" 

"Waiting  for  you." 

37 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

In  the  radiance  of  an  arc  light  the  aristocratic 
face  of  Lynn  showed  dark  rings  under  his  eyes. 
Comlough  thought  his  lips  twitched. 

14  Wai  ting  for  me?" 

"Marcia  said  she  met  you,  and  that  you  would 
be  at  Hargreave's." 

"Oh — "  Comlough  was  mystified.  Self-pos 
session  was  the  essence  of  Lynn ;  but  the  urbanity 
of  the  man  had  been  displaced  by  some  strange 
tensity  which  he  could  control  only  imperfectly. 

"Come  down  to  the  University  Club — or  can  we 
go  to  your  place?"  Lynn  talked  rapidly.  "I 
must  talk  to  you." 

"My  place — of  course.  But,  man,  what's  the 
matter?" 

Lynn's  eyes  wavered. 

"Lots  of  trouble,"  he  said  hoarsely,  with  a  queer 
gulp. 

What  Marcia  had  said  about  Lynn's  nervous 
ness — business  troubles  and  refusal  to  leave  New 
York  with  her — came  back  to  him.  They  reached 
Fifth  Avenue.  He  signaled  a  taxi. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  he  said,  as  the  machine  got 
on  its  way. 

"I — wait  till  we  get  to  your  place,"  Lynn  an- 
38 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

swered.  After  a  pause  he  added,  almost  in  a 
whisper:  "Only  repeat  this  to  yourself,  Cooper- — 
you've  got  to  help  me,  old  man ;  you've  got  to  help 
me!" 

Exchange  of  commonplaces  was  out  of  key. 
Unable  to  talk  of  the  thing  dominant  in  the  other's 
mind,  Comlough  said  nothing.  Nor  did  Lynn, 
rigid  on  the  seat  beside  him,  say  anything  further. 

They  went  immediately  to  Comlough's  study. 
He  waved  Ochia,  his  Jap  boy,  out  of  the  room,  and 
pushed  a  deep  chair  for  Lynn  to  the  refectory 
table  jutting  into  the  bay  window.  He  drew  the 
curtains  and  set  out  a  bottle  of  Scotch  and  a  glass. 
Lynn  aroused  a  pulse  of  old  admiration  in  Com 
lough  by  rejecting  the  drink  with  a  curt  wave  of  his 
hand,  when  it  was  obvious  that  he  needed  one 
badly. 

"Now  then,  Evans." 

Lynn  stared  at  a  Dutch  plaque  paperweight. 
Finally  he  lifted  his  eyes  to  Comlough's.  His  face 
was  blanched. 

"Cooper — I've  ruined  myself — disgraced — 
Marcia  and  my  children,"  he  said  unemotionally. 

Comlough  rose,  automatically,  because  for  a 
second  he  did  not  comprehend.  Then,  strangely, 

39 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

resentment  -scorched  his  instinctive  sympathy  for 
the  man  before  him.  Why  had  he  dragged  in 
Marcia's  name?  Just  as  curious,  but  saner,  was 
the  reflection  which  immediately  ousted  his 
resentment. 

Disgrace  Marcia  Nolan  ? — Her  own  name  framed 
itself  in  his  mind  as  he  visualized  her. — No,  that 
was  something  no  man  could  do.  Disgrace  him 
self,  perhaps ;  disgrace  some  others,  too,  perhaps — 
but  her?  No  man,  husband  or  other,  had  that 
power  over  her.  He  settled  back  in  his  chair  and 
scrutinized  the  pale,  handsome  man  opposite  him, 
while  Lynn  labored  to  put  into  words  the  calamity 
he  faced. 

"I  sunk  a  million  dollars — smashed  on  the 
street,"  said  Lynn,  trying  to  control  his  twitching 
dry  lips.  ' '  Smashed ! ' ' 

He  stopped  as  though  waiting  either  for  an  ex 
clamation  of  amazement  or  sympathy  fromCom- 
lough.  The  latter  failed  to  understand  at  once. 
A  million  dollars  was,  of  course,  a  million  dollars; 
but  the  mental  estimate  he  made  of  Lynn's  re 
sources  plus  Marcia's  money  was  between  two  and 
three  million  dollars.  And  then  in  a  flash  the  sig 
nificance  of  a  man  in  Lynn's  bank  position  ventur- 

40 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ing  in  what  must  have  been  financial  wild-catting 
gave  him  a  mental  jolt. 

"Speculating!  But  man,  I  don't  under 
stand " 

"The  day  before  the  Armistice  I  was  worth  a 
potential  six  or  seven  million  dollars,"  said  Lynn 
grimly.  ' '  A  week  after  the  Armistice  I  would  have 
cashed  in.  The  end  of  the  war  was  the  end  of  peace 
for  me." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Lynn  reached  for  the 
whisky.  He  rose  to  pour  it,  and  sat  down  again, 
as  though  his  joints  had  gone  stiff.  He  moistened 
his  lips  with  the  tip  of  his  tongue  after  the  drink. 

"But  still,  a  million  ought  not — "  began  Com- 
lough,  thinking  again  of  Lynn's  resources. 

"One  million — that — was  not  mine!"  he  said 
hoarsely. 

Marcia's  money!    Comlough  leaned  forward. 

"It  belonged— to " 

"To  the  bank." 

Comlough's  breath  caught. 

"To  the  bank!— Evans— to  the  bank?" 

"Yes.  Mine  and  Marcia's  went — long  ago. 
This  was — a  chance  of  a  thousand  years  to  get  it 
back — and  more — and  I  got  jammed." 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Comlough  emitted  an  inaudible  breath  of  relief. 
At  least  the  law  had  not  yet  gripped  Marcia's 
husband. 

"It  meant — getting  back  Marcia's  chance  for 
happiness,"  said  Lynn  weakly,  avoiding  his  eye. 

Comlough  thrust  out  his  hand  as  though  to  press 
back  Lynn's  words. 

"Evans,  let  me  tell  you  something,"  he  said 
sharply,  anger  overcoming  his  repugnance  of  men 
tioning  Marcia  at  this  time.  "You're  wrong  there. 
A  woman  like  Marcia  doesn't  risk  her  happiness 
on  money.  Then,"  he  added  grimly,  "you  can't 
found  happiness  on  any  such  procedure  as  that." 

Lynn  bit  his  lips.    Comlough  eyed  him  steadily. 

"On  what  did  you  stick  it?"  he  asked  quietly. 

Lynn's  eyes  met  his  in  a  long  hypnotic  stare. 

"On — on  Utopian  Oil!"  he  said  slowly. 

Comlough  sat  forward  with  a  start  and  an  ejacu 
lation. 

"On  what?" 

"Yes — on  what!"  Lynn  emitted  a  tragic  laugh. 
"On  Utopian  Oil  which  you  wrecked  to  hell  with 
your  newspaper  reports !  On  Utopian  Oil,  Cooper 
Comlough!  On  Utopian  Oil!" 

There  was  a  long  silence  in  the  cozy,  soft-lighted 
42 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

room,  as  the  two  men  subsided  into  their  chairs 
again,  eying  each  other  as  though  they  were 
strangers.  Lynn's  eyes  broke  under  the  increasing 
steadiness  of  Comlough's;  his  gaze  wandered  to  a 
pale  rose  and  opal  sun  scene  of  Sorolla's  on  the  wall, 
and  continued  until  it  struck  the  whisky  bottle 
on  the  table.  Mechanically  he  leaned  sideways 
and  poured  himself  a  second  drink.  He  had  gulped 
it  down  before  Comlough  spoke.  Strangely  enough 
he  was  not  thinking  of  Marcia  at  all  now ;  only  of 
the  broken  friend  across  the  table,  who  had  already 
something  of  the  aspect  of  being  hunted.  Utopian 
Oil !  That  was  weirdly  fateful. 

"Evans,"  he  said,  almost  gently,  "this  is  mighty 
strange — mighty. ' ' 

Something  savage  flared  in  the  other  man's  eyes. 

"You've  got  to  help  me  out,  Cooper!  Why — 
Marcia " 

Comlough  checked  him  with  a  curt  gesture. 
Repugnance  bitter  as  gall  and  deeper  than  before 
filled  him  at  this  new  attempt  to  drag  in  Marcia.  It 
was  treachery,  to  put  it  mildly  and  sardonically,  to 
the  code  of  decent  form  on  the  part  of  a  man  whose 
religion  and  that  of  his  fathers  had  been  good  form. 

"You've  got  to  help  me,  Cooper!"  repeated 
43 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Lynn,  alarmed  at  Comlough's  gesture.    "I'll  pay 
it  back  with  interest." 

Comlough's  eyes  fastened  on  the  Dutch  plaque. 
Friends,  old  friends;  classmates,  roommates;  old 
pals — invisibly  united  in  their  mutual  love  for 
Marcia,  and  at  this  moment  impassably  divided 
by  just  that,  too.  But  he  was  no  man  to  retire 
into  a  niche  of  righteousness  when  his  help  was 
asked.  The  criminality  of  Lynn's  act  made  the 
demand  on  his  assistance  more  imperative,  if 
anything.  But  the  irony  of  the  situation  in  which 
he  was  asked  to  help  a  man  whom  he  had  been 
indirectly  responsible  for  ruining  had  many 
complications.  Now,  in  the  first  place  to  tell  Lynn 
the  real  reason  of  his  attacks  on  Utopian  Oil  with 
out  revealing  the  secrets  of  his  impending  opera 
tions  in  Texas  and  the  confidence  of  the  men 
associated  with  him — could  he  do  it?  He  also  had 
a  feeling  of  squeamishness  in  accepting  this  offer 
of  Fate  to  gain  control  of  Utopian  Oil,  through 
the  misfortune  of  his  friend.  Yet,  obviously,  he 
could  not  disregard  the  chance,  merely  because  it 
seemed  to  identify  willingness  to  help  Lynn  with 
self-interest.  The  other  shifted  under  the  delay. 
Comlough  met  his  worried  gaze  again. 

44 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"But  why — why  on  Utopian  Oil?"  he  asked,  to 
gain  time  for  his  thoughts  to  work  themselves  out. 

Lynn  hesitated. 

"McAleeman,  Huffaker,  and  Bainbridge  were  in 
the  original  crowd,"  he  said,  looking  at  the  whisky 
bottle.  "Bainbridge  sees,  or  thinks  he  does,  the 
trend  of  prohibition.  He  was  interested  in  build 
ing  the  Moro  Castle  Hotel  in  Havana,  and  took 
McAleeman  and  Huffaker  in  with  him." 

Comlough  mentally  placed  them  in  turn. 
McAleeman,  a  slippery  Scot,  with  a  washed-out 
cheek,  a  fishy  eye  and  a  rusty  moustache;  Bain- 
bridge,  one  of  the  spat-and-cane  sporting,  chorus- 
man-tailored  market  grafters,  with  a  dingy  office 
in  Water  Street;  Huffaker,  a  man  with  a  magnetic 
eye  but  a  terra  cotta  complexion  and  a  ratty  smile. 
A  bad  trio  for  the  vice-president  of  the  Clinton 
Loan  and  Trust  Company  to  meet  up  with !  When 
the  mighty  tumble,  reflected  Comlough,  verily 
they  roll  into  strange  companions. 

"They  needed  cash,  oceans  of  it,"  Lynn  spoke 
with  matter-of-factness  now.  "McAleeman — 
well,  he  knew  I  had  been  speculating  and  also 
learned  that  I  was  down  to  bed  rock.  He  had 
me  in  an  awkward  position,  although  no  specific 

45 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

intimation  of  it  was  ever  mentioned  by  him.  He 
just  knew.  And  he  knew  I  knew  he  knew.  Y  .  . 
I  loaned  them  nine  hundred  thousand  dollars  in 
three  lots  on  their  holdings  of  Utopian." 

Comlough  whistled  softly. 

' '  In  effect,  I  had  bought  them — if  they  went  up. 
McAleeman  gave  me  Bonsell's  game  in  detail. 
It  looked — just  what  it  was  before  you  stepped  in 
— a  sure  thing.  I  knew  it  was  shady;  but  I  was 
desperate.  I  had  obligations  to  meet  which  were 
going  to  show  me  up  as  though  a  searchlight  were 
put  on  me — if  I  didn't.  I  was  crazy — beyond 
thought  of  honesty,  Cooper.  Now — "  he  paused 
and  inhaled  deeply.  "There's  a  state  examination 
to-morrow  and  on  Friday  the  directors'  meeting. 
That's  the  situation  in  a  nutshell." 

As  he  listened,  the  other's  agony  eating  into  him, 
Comlough's  mind  involuntarily  hearkened  back. 

' '  Marcia's  money — she  knew  you  were  using  it  ?" 

The  question  took  Lynn  by  surprise. 

"No." 

Again  an  impossible  silence  came  between  them. 
Comlough  wanted  to  get  out — to  get  into  the  air, 
because  the  oppression  of  the  room  was  intolerable. 
He  would  help  Lynn,  of  course;  incidentally,  it 

46 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

would  practically  give  him  control  of  Utopian,  but 
at  a  price  much  higher  than  he  had  intended  to 
pay  for  it.  He  was  a  little  glad  of  this.  He  did 
not  want  to  have  his  assistance  to  Lynn — and 
Marcia — confused  too  crassly  with  business  mo 
tives.  He  was  not  thinking  of  business,  moreover, 
because  only  two  facts  throbbed  in  his  mind :  Lynn 
ousted  from  the  bank — disgraced!  and  Marcia 
beggared — Marcia  beggared!  She  must  get  her 
money  back.  He  got  a  mental  grip  on  himself, 
asking  another  question  to  gain  time. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do — stripped  of  every 
thing  you  and  Marcia  have,  and  in  debt?" 

Lynn's  pale  face  grew  paler;  his  lips  moved  and 
his  eyes  wandered  with  a  stark  look  in  them  about 
the  room,  finding  nothing  strong  enough  to  hold 
them  until  they  met  Comlough's. 

"That — that  I  can  face,  Cooper — and  somehow 
— slave  out  of  it  into  daylight  again.  But  dis 
grace — prison — that's  something  I  can't  face." 

Comlough  hesitated  for  a  second,  then  he  picked 
up  pencil  and  pad.  Lynn's  recent  betrayal  of  the 
confidence  which  the  Clinton  Loan  and  Trust 
Company  reposed  in  him  had  not  weakened  his 
faith  in  Lynn's  sense  of  personal  obligation  to  him- 

47 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

self.  If  anything,  Lynn  must  have  learned  his 
bitter  lesson. 

"Utopian  was  originally  capitalized  at  a  million, 
half  preferred,  non-voting.  Three  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  of  the  common  was  issued  and 
control  divided  up  among  Bonsell,  Cann,  Bain- 
bridge,  McAleeman,  Huffaker,  and  an  engineer 
named  Kilcairn.  Bonsell  took  fifty  thousand, 
Cann  thirty-five,  Bainbridge,  McAleeman,  and 
Huffaker  each  twenty-five,  and  Kilcairn  twenty. 
When  it  was  reincorporated  in  New  York  they 
made  the  old  common  convertible  at  one  to  three 
of  the  new  and  divided  up  control  in  the  same 
proportion.  After  they  got  their  Estacado  tract 
and  announced  the  new  ten-million  capitalization 
they  made  the  second  common  convertible  at  one 
to  five  of  the  third.  So  Bonsell  holds  seven  hun 
dred  and  fifty  thousand;  Cann,  five  hundred  and 
twenty-five ;  Bainbridge,  McAleeman,  and  Huffaker 
three  hundred  and  seventy-five  apiece,  and  Kil 
cairn  three  hundred  thousand.  Correct?" 

"That  is  right,"  said  Lynn,  wondering  what  this 
detailed  review  of  the  inner  finances  of  Utopian 
meant  to  Comlough. 

"You  hold  Bainbridge,  McAleeman,  and  Huff- 
48 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

aker's  blocks :  one  million,  a  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars'  worth.  Against  you  are, 
Bonsell  and  Cann,  who  will  stick  with  him,  with  a 
block  of  a  million,  two  hundred  and  seventy-five 
thousand.  Isn't  that  so?" 

"Kilcairn?"  said  Lynn  involuntarily. 

"Exactly.  Kilcairn  with  his  lot  of  three  hun 
dred  thousand  holds  the  whip.  But — "  Comlough 
looked  meaningly  at  Lynn — "I  know  something 
that  even  Bonsell  doesn't.  I  know  where  Kilcairn 
is.  I  can  get  his  share  with  no  more  trouble  than 
a  telegram.  And  his  with  yours " 

"With  mine?" 

"Yes — I'm  going  to  give  you  what  you  paid  for 
it." 

"You — you  want  that  stuff!"  exclaimed  Lynn. 

"You  will  have  the  money  to  return  to  the  bank 
to-morrow  morning  and  I'll  have  your  stock. 
With  Kilcairn 's  it  will  give  me  what  I  have  to  have 
— the  majority  holding.  This  will  be  turned  over 
for  a  nominal  bit  of  United  Americas  Petroleum, 
which  will  manage  the  thing  as  it  sees  fit." 

A  faint  flush  poured  into  Lynn's  pale  cheeks. 

"Then  you — you  did  me — us — up  brown  for 

your  game?"  he  demanded  excitedly,  gripping  the 
4  49 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

table.  The  flush  went  out  of  his  cheeks.  He 
controlled  himself.  "What  a  coincidence!"  he 
said. 

Comlough  disregarded  his  manner,  thinking  it  in 
passing  as  natural  enough  in  the  circumstances,  and 
went  into  details.  He  told  Lynn  of  his  proposed 
project  in  the  Estacado,  and  explained  why  the 
Utopian  and  Canassus  slices  of  it  were  important 
to  him ;  even  told  his  old  friend  that  upon  securing 
the  complete  control  of  the  Estacado  depended  the 
loans  he  must  have  from  Hargreave  and  Colonel 
Maurice.  He  outlined  his  contemplated  campaign 
against  the  Texan  Improvement  and  Oil  Company, 
and  enlisted  Lynn's  aid  for  two  purposes — first, 
to  get  control  of  that  organization,  and  second,  as 
the  first  step  in  Lynn's  own  financial  rehabilitation. 

Part  of  the  Llano  Estacado  was  excellent,  if 
remote,  range  country.  Lynn,  through  a  neutral 
broker,  could  announce  to  Mangin  of  Texan  Im 
provement  that  big  stock-breeding  interests  had 
purchased  the  depreciated  Utopian,  not  for  oil  but 
for  range  purposes,  and  suggest  that  the  same 
interests  were  in  the  market  for  further  acreage  in 
the  same  territory.  Texan  Improvement  stock 
being  then  in  the  same  proximity  to  zero  that 

50 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Utopian  was  now,  it  would  not  take  Mangin  more 
than  a  couple  of  thoughts  to  leap  to  the  fly. 

So  Comlough  discussed  confidential  matters 
pertaining  to  the  oil  operations  of  United  Americas 
Petroleum  Consolidated  with  Lynn,  in  an  easy, 
chatty  way;  glad,  in  fact,  to  talk  over  his  plans 
intimately  with  his  old  friend;  deeply  glad  of  the 
opportunity  of  doing  a  good  turn  for  him,  both 
for  Lynn's  own  sake  and  old  friendship,  as  well  as 
for  Marcia's.  Talked  conversationally,  casually 
of  things  vital  in  his  project  of  things,  to  set  Lynn 
utterly  at  rest  with  himself  again  and  reestablish 
him  with  all  his  old  self-respect  in  their  old  com 
radeship  and  candor.  He  told  of  developments  in 
the  Lake  Maracaibo  Basin,  pending  Venezuelan 
concessions  in  Peri j  a  and  the  districts  of  Paez  and 
Miranda;  of  projects  along  the  Magdalena.  He 
told  of  the  single  remaining  difficulty — nothing 
really  to  speak  of — after  he  had  gained  control  of 
Utopian  and  the  Canassus  tract,  in  starting  opera 
tions  on  the  Estacado.  The  transference  or 
rescinding  of  a  franchise  held  by  a  railroad  man 
named  Porter,  the  president  of  a  short,  decrepit 
road,  the  Long  Horn  and  Lone  Star,  which  held 
certain  rights  of  way  it  had  never  built  on,  but 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

which  were  essential  to  Comlough's  transportation 
plans.  There  would  be  no  trouble  about  Porter. 
He  was  in  Vancouver  now,  getting  himself  inter 
ested  in  timber,  and  it  would  be  simple  enough  to 
bring  him  round  when  he  returned  to  Texas  to 
wind  up  his  affairs  there.  No  hurry  about  tack 
ling  him. 

And  so  he  talked  on,  bringing  Lyrm  back  to  his 
old  sense  of  ease  and  good  fellowship.  He  was 
like  that,  was  Comlough.  A  man  who  gave  all — 
his  confidence,  faith,  good-will,  friendship  along 
with  his  money  and  sympathy — or  gave  nothing. 
Not  a  man  of  half  measures  in  any  particular. 

"That's  all  there  is  to  it  then,  Evans!"  he  con 
cluded  finally.  "Come  to  the  office  about  eight- 
thirty  to-morrow  and  I'll  straighten  out  your  little 
mix-up."  He  went  round  to  Lynn  and  put  his 
hands  on  his  shoulders.  "You'll  come  out  all 
right,  old  man.  We  must  get  Marcia  her  money 
back,  and  you'll  land  feet  firm,  head  up,  too. 
There  are  some  other  things  I'm  going  to  shove 
your  way  besides  that  Texan  Improvement  busi 
ness.  Of  course,  I  don't  have  to  say  that  what  I 
told  you  was  confidential — almost  not  mine  to  tell. 
It's  a  reasonably  safe  but  delicate  time  for  us." 

52 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Lynn  put  his  hands  on  Comlough's,  which  still 
gripped  his  shoulders. 

"Cooper — you  can  trust  me  as  you  do  your  own 
soul!"  He  gulped  with  an  emotion  strange  to 
him;  a  surge  of  youthful  friendship  for  Comlough 
commingled  with  gratitude  came  over  Lynn. 
"Cooper,  old  man,  you're  better  and  bigger  than 
I  am — I  realize  it  now  if  I  never  did  before;  but 
you  will  never  know  all  the  gratitude  that  is  in 
me  to-night.  All  I  can  tell  you  of  it  is  this — if 
you're  ever  in  trouble  as  I  guess  and  hope  you 
never  will  be — you  will  find  there  is  nothing  of 
mine  in  this  world  which  is  not  yours.  Call  on  me, 
Cooper,  if  ever  you  have  to,  and  there  is  in  God's 
world  nothing  I  wouldn't  do  for  you." 

It  was  in  this  manner  that  Cooper  Comlough 
saved  the  man,  and  the  man  professed  gratitude 
and  pledged  himself  to  come  to  Comlough's  aid 
should  he  ever  need  him. 


53 


CHAPTER   III 

HALF-WAY  over  Williamsburg  Bridge  Tom 
slammed  the  brakes  on  and  turned  sharply  to  avoid 
a  soggy,  burlapped  bale  that  fell  from  a  truck 
directly  in  front  of  Comlough's  automobile,  which 
was  speeding  toward  Manhattan  taking  full 
advantage  of  the  Saturday-afternoon  westbound 
freedom  of  way.  The  front  right  wheel  struck  the 
bale  a  glancing  blow  which  shook  the  machine  and 
jolted  Comlough  out  of  a  satisfactory  reverie  over 
a  golf  score,  representing  his  first  holiday  frolic 
since  his  return  from  Texas.  An  interchange  of 
sententious  personalities  between  Tom  and  two 
truckmen  as  they  flashed  past,  and  the  incident 
was  forgotten  while  he  mulled  over,  as  men  will, 
the  pleasantries  of  the  green,  when  the  machine 
stopped  short.  Tom  turned  to  him. 

"Sorry,  Mr.  Comlough.  Something's  gone 
wrong  up  there  in  the  hood — maybe  that  jolt  back 
there  did  it." 

"Can  you  fix  it?" 

54 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Sure!    Have  it  in  a  minute." 

Comlough  looked  at  his  watch.  It  was  four 
o'clock. 

' '  No  hurry,  Tom.  Get  me  up  to  the  club  around 
six-thirty,  that's  all." 

He  surveyed  the  neighborhood  in  which  they 
had  stopped.  It  was  the  gray,  shabby  belt  of  the 
Bowery  a  few  blocks  below  Cooper  Union ;  somno 
lent,  unpopulous  now  in  the  warm  Saturday  after 
noon.  Tom  did  not  have  the  machine  fixed  in  the 
promised  minute,  and  as  the  succeeding  minutes 
multiplied  Comlough  eyed  with  increasing  thirsti- 
ness  and  decreasing  distaste  a  saloon  whose  decay 
seemed  to  be  timed  for  completion  on  the  arrival 
of  the  drouth  era,  still  two  months  away.  With 
no  particular  sense  of  condescension,  however — 
he  had  freshly  come  from  a  region  where  men  took 
saloons  as  they  took  other  men :  as  they  were,  not 
as  they  ought  to  be — he  walked  round  to  the  side 
door  and  entered  a  dark,  ill-smelling  rear  room. 
It  took  a  minute  before  his  eyes  became  accus 
tomed  to  the  rancid  dusk  after  the  white  spring 
glare  which  had  brightened  the  Bowery. 

He  sat  down  at  a  table  beside  the  narrow  sheet 
of  thick  window-pane,  painted  a  dirty,  opaque 

55 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

yellow.  He  was  shielded  from  the  door  by  a  parti 
tion.  At  a  corner  table  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
room  sat  another  man.  Gomlough  was  attracted 
to  him  by  the  single  shot-like  glance  leveled  at  him 
from  eyes  as  dark  and  unchanging  as  the  holes  of 
rifle  barrels.  Even  in  the  dusk  of  the  room  his 
eyes  had  a  depth  of  darkness  all  their  own.  He 
was  dressed  in  oily  overalls  which  for  some  reason 
contrasted  incongruously  with  his  lean-jawed,  hard 
face,  that  had  something  untamed  and  untamable 
in  it,  and  with  his  air  of  poised  litheness — a  certain 
sense  of  caged  springiness,  as  he  sipped  a  glass  of 
beer.  With  his  far-flung  acquaintanceship  and 
instinct  for  people,  Comlough  was  struck  by  some 
thing  unusual  in  this  solitary  drinker  met  in  the 
drab  rear  room  of  a  Bowery  saloon. 

He  pressed  a  bell-button  and  ordered  his  drink 
from  a  glassy-eyed  barkeep  with  a  case-hardened 
leer.  The  man  across  the  room  drew  out  the  last 
sip  in  his  glass  as  Comlough  drained  his,  and  was 
about  to  rise  when  his  dark  eyes  shot  one  of  their 
direct  glances  at  the  door  and  he  sank  abruptly 
back  into  his  chair  again. 

Without  noticing  Comlough,  two  men  came  into 
the  room.  They  had  the  scowling,  predatory  vis- 

56 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ages  of  the  more  primitive  types  either  of  criminals 
or  the  hunters  of  criminals,  blinking  there  for  a 
moment  against  the  darkness,  until  they  spied  the 
man  across  the  room.  They  approached  him, 
their  hands  significantly  forethrust  in  their  coat 
pockets.  The  man,  with  a  certain  expectant  ten 
sity,  opened  his  hands  and  extended  them  over  the 
table. 

They  advanced  like  a  pair  of  cheetas  stalking  a 
tiger,  the  other  watching  them  steadily,  his  eyes 
alive  with  a  kind  of  black  flame,  while  a  knot  rose 
on  the  side  of  his  jaw.  The  stouter  of  the  two  men 
rapped  on  the  table  with  his  knuckles. 

"We  got  you  now,  McDevitt,  you !" 

The  unprintable  word  ripped  through  the 
gloomy  room  like  a  forked  flash  of  heat  lightning. 
The  man  seemed  to  settle  into  greater  compact 
ness,  and  then  relaxed.  His  hands  only,  rigidly 
thrust  out  before  him,  shut  and  opened  again. 

"Where'd  you  learn  this  act,  Donovan?  I'm 
clean  o'  your  crowd — I  done  my  turn." 

' '  Get  up,  you  crook ! ' ' 

The  other  hesitated  a  second.  He  was  already 
rising,  however,  as  the  fist  of  the  second  man 
drove  at  his  jaw.  With  perfect  alertness  he  moved 

57 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

his  head  to  one  side — almost  slowly,  so  exactly  did 
he  time  the  blow — and  kicked  the  chair  away  from 
behind  him.  He  stood  quietly  confronting  them. 
The  other  struck  at  him  again.  His  right  arm 
flashed  up  and  struck  the  blow  off. 

"Go  slow  there,  Kenna — "  he  began,  and  closed 
his  lips  tightly,  avoiding  a  third  blow.  The 
stouter  man  had  drawn  a  revolver. 

"Stick 'em  on  him,  Bill!" 

"Hold  out  your  hands  there,  Mystic  Fingers, 
you  g d murderer ! " 

The  man  drew  back,  his  hand  gripping  the  chair 
behind  him  and  he  swung  it  in  front  of  him. 

"You'll  finish  me  here,  if  that's  your  game," 
he  said  deliberately;  "but  you'll  never  frame  me  for 
another  dose  of  the  pen." 

They  laughed — much  as  cheetas  must  laugh 
when  they  come  upon  a  trapped  tiger.  The  stouter 
man  called  him  that  in  his  next  words. 

"Oh,  you'll  get  yours  this  trip  awright,  Tiger! 
You  finished  Condon,  didn't  you?" 

"That's  it,  is  it?"  His  hand  still  evaded  the 
steel  rims  constantly  being  pushed  with  menacing 
insistence  nearer  to  his  wrists.  He  was  slowly 
backing  toward  the  wall,  keeping  the  chair  off  the 

58 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ground  between  him  and  the  others.  "That's  a 
helluvalie,  an'  you  know  it,  Donovan!" 

"Who  did,  then?" 

"I  don't  know,    /didn't!" 

Warily  they  closed  in  on  him. 

"Who  did,  then?" 

"/didn't!" 

"Who  did,  then — "     They  were  almost  on  him. 

"/  didn't—!  Stop!"  He  lifted  the  chair. 
"I  did  seven  years,  and  you'll  let  me  alone  now  or 
I'll  do  murder  right  here.  Condon  got  his  graft 
and  wanted  to  hog  the  world — you  got  yours, 
didn't  you — ugh ! ' ' 

The  big  man's  foot  landed  against  his  leg  with  a 
sickening  thud. 

"Shut  up  on  that!  Ferget  it!  I  didn't  get 
nothin' — see!" 

The  man  in  the  corner  swayed  from  the  kick, 
but  the  chair  still  did  not  come  down. 

"You  didn't  get  a  thing — I  get  you,"  he  said 
quietly,  almost  purringly;  with  ominous  self- 
control.  "All  right!  You're  on  the  level  now — 
fair  enough.  That's  what  I  am  now — on  the 
level — see?  I  paid  for  the  right  to  be,  didn't  I? 
That's  why  you're  gone  t'leave  me  alone.  I  know 

59 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

what  you  want.  Either  you'll  make  me  pull  a 
framed  job  or  you'll  frame  me  down  the  line.  Stay 
right  where  you  are!  It's  nix  on  that,  though — 
see !  I've  done  all  the  mystic  finger  work  I'm  gone 
t'  do — get  that  solid !  So  leave  me  alone,  or  you're 
organizin'  a  murder  right  here,  Donovan!" 

For  all  the  threatening  control  of  his  voice  it  had 
in  it  the  pathos  of  an  infinite  hopelessness.  The 
little  man  made  a  feint  at  his  arms.  The  chair 
wavered  for  an  instant  aloft.  The  big  man  raised 
his  revolver.  .  .  . 

' '  Let  that  man  alone ! ' ' 

Three  men  looked  toward  the  table  at  the  win 
dow.  Comlough  advanced  toward  them.  He  had 
lived  with  frontier  crowds  and  floating  riffraffs  of 
laborers,  and  he  had  ripe  experience,  political  and 
otherwise,  of  New  York  criminology. 

"What  are  you  riding  that  man  for?"  he  de 
manded.  ' '  Take  your  hands  off  him ! ' ' 

There  is  nothing  comparable  in  confusing  the 
tyranny  of  minor  authority  to  the  assumption  of 
greater.  The  big  man  faced  Comlough,  his  fat 
jowl  jutted  out;  but  a  wavering  of  his  bully's 
brutality  manifested  itself  in  his  thick  voice  as  he 
growled : 

60 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Who'n  hell  are  you!" 

"Cooper  Comlough,  that's  who!"  answered 
Comlough,  as  though  the  name  contained  ultimate 
power.  "A  personal  friend  of  Commissioner  Endi- 
cott  and  Deputy  Commissioner  O'Hara,  that's 
who !  An  intimate  friend  of  Deems  Stover,  that's 
who — and  now  you  know !  Here's  my  card.  My 
machine  and  chauffeur  are  right  outside  here — get 
that!"  A  slight  waggling  of  the  revolver  in  the 
officer's  hand  prompted  this  reference  to  reinforce 
ments.  "But  I  know  you,  Donovan!  I've  seen 
you  around  Headquarters  and  there's  more  than 
one  weird  spot  in  your  record!"  He  shot  this  at 
the  fat  man  with  pure  inspiration,  for  he  had  never 
seen  the  man  in  his  life  before ;  but  the  bluff  carried. 
"I'm  going  to  take  charge  of  this  man,  and  I'm 
going  to  get  his  status  straight.  Step  away  there, 
and  let  him  through!" 

It  was  amazingly  easy,  after  all.  Comlough,  six 
feet  of  mysterious  authority;  his  lean,  tapering 
prelate's  face  set  in  an  adamantine  mask  of  deter 
mination,  intimidated  the  two  officers  thoroughly. 

"Just  a  joke,"  mumbled  Donovan. 

' '  You  ought  to  go  on  the  stage  with  your  sense 
of  humor, ' '  suggested  Comlough.  He  preceded  the 

61 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

others  to  the  door  with  the  man.  ' '  Now  beat  it ! " 
he  said  tersely. 

The  two  officers  shifted  uncertainly  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  as  they  turned  off  like  a  pair  of  discom 
fited  curs,  he  led  the  man  to  his  automobile.  The 
man  held  out  his  hand. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  butted  in  for,  but  I'll 
say  you  got  away  with  it,"  he  said  quietly.  "I 
appreciate  it,  Mister." 

Comlough  shook  hands  with  him,  but  made  no 
answer.  He  noticed  that  the  man  had  an  ex 
traordinary  hand:  long  artist  fingers  with  broad, 
sensitive  artist  tips. 

"Got  her  fixed,  Tom?" 

"No,  sir — something  wrong  still.  It's  got  me 
guessin',  Mr.  Comlough;  but  I'll  get  it  in  a  minute, 
though." 

"Make  it  fast."  He  had  no  particular  desire  to 
linger  in  the  neighborhood. 

"Maybe  I  c'n  give  you  a  hand,"  volunteered  the 
other.  "I've  stripped  and  put  together  enough  of 
'em  in  my  time,  so's  their  original  parts  couldn't 
've  told  their  orig'nal  owners  who  they  were." 

He  began  fumbling  among  the  ignition  mysteries 
as  though  by  divination,  and  within  five  minutes 

62 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

the  engine  was  running.  Chagrined,  the  chauf 
feur  gathered  up  waste  and  tools  and  got  behind 
the  wheel. 

"Don't  get  sore,"  said  the  man.  "Machin'ry's 
more'n  second  nature  to  me — it's  first." 

' '  Get  in .    I  want  to  talk  to  you , ' '  said  Comlough . 

The  other  paused,  and  stepped  into  the  machine. 

"If  you  have  time,  Tom,  take  a  turn  through 
Central  Park.  .  .  .  Now,  let's  have  some  facts. 
Who  are  you?" 

"Joe  Glenn's  the  name  I'm  usin'  now.  They 
used  to  know  me  as  '  Mac'  McDevitt  and  '  Mystic 
Fingers'  and  'The  Tiger'  down  at  Headquarters, 
where  they  run  to  fancy  names." 

He  gave  them,  however,  as  names  anyone  should 
remember.  But  they  made  no  impression  on  Com 
lough,  who  said : 

"I  noticed  your  fingers.  They're  remarkable. 
Like  an  artist's,  I  should  say." 

"Rec'lect  the  robbery  over  at  the  Coggershall 
Steel  Company,  in  1910?  I  opened  their  globe 
safe  with  just  them  ten — artist's — fingers!"  he 
said  with  a  bitter  emphasis  on  the  "artist's." 

Comlough  started.  He  recollected  with  graphic 
vividness.  Herschel  Deliver,  president  of  the 

63 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Coggershall  Company,  was  one  of  his  best  friends. 
The  safe,  guaranteed  unbreakable  and  built  into 
an  impregnable  wall,  had  been  opened  without 
violence. 

Comlough  turned  to  look  at  him  better. 

"This  is  quite  a  coincidence.  I  know  Deliver 
well.  He  used  to  wonder  that  a  chap  with  your 
talents  would  want  to  buck  against  all  the  risks 
we  cautious  folks  put  up  to  keep  you  out  of  our 
private  affairs.  Sort  of  funny." 

McDevitt,  or  Glenn,  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"Funny!"  he  repeated  bitterly.  "Funny  like 
hell!  Crazy,  you  mean." 

"Well,  what  really  happened  that  got  you  into 
jail?" 

"There  was  four  of  us  on  the  job.  We  finished 
clean.  A  pal  o'  mine  named  Wherry  was  soft  on 
a  girl  named  Trix  Fitch.  She  was  stringin'  him 
along,  playin'  tag  on  the  q.  t.  with  one  of  Head- 
quarter's  playmates — an  official  crook  named 
Condon.  The  papers  was  screamin'  extra  on  the 
Coggershall  job,  an'  the  way  I  dope  it  out  is  that 
Wherry  got  a  swell  head  and  began  hintin'  round 
to  impress  his  dame.  She  passed  the  word  to 
Condon  and  he  and  Donovan  plowed  into  us  one 

64 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

night.  It  was  soft  for  them,  and  they  was  willin' 
to  be  reasonable  at  about  eighty  per  cent.  We  got 
twenty-four  hour's  breathin'  spell  to  pony  up. 
In  that  time  Condon  got  shot.  I  knew  who  did  it. 
/  didn't.  Wherry  didn't,  and  Donovan  knows  I 
didn't.  He  swung  the  Coggershall  job  on  me  with 
out  mixin'  us  up  with  Condon,  because  we  could've 
reeled  off  testimony  on  our  own,  and  at  the  same 
time  he  knew  we  couldn't  squeal  on  him  for  makin' 
us  whack  up  because  that  would've  brought  a  pal 
of  ours  to  the  chair.  Nine  years  with  two  off.  I've 
hit  all  the  thrills  and  speed  I  want  in  this  life!  I 
learned  my  lesson,  and  the  lesson  was  that  you 
can't  get  away  with  it.  My  ten  fingers  is  as  good 
as  they  ever  was.  There's  lots  waitin'  for  me  to 
come  back  to  'em.  Lots  tryin'  to  pull  me  back. 
But  I  wouldn't  go  back  into  the  game  again,  not  if 
they  killed  me." 

His  lean  long  jaw  knotted  stubbornly. 

"They've  only  got  to  get  me  tied  up  to  one 
other  job — it  don't  make  no  difference  how  little 
it  is — an'  good-night!  I'll  go  up  the  line  then  for 
good  an'  all.  Say,  my  life  don't  mean  a  damn  thing 
to  me .  I  could  risk  it — like  that ! "  He  snapped  his 
fingers.  "  But  not  for  prison.  Sooner  or  later  I'm 

65 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

goin'  to  come  smack  up  against  it  though,"  he 
went  on  somberly.  "They're  out  to  get  me.  You 
can  bet  this  car  against  a  old  newspaper  they  had 
a  lad  waitin'  for  me  to-night.  Just  as  they  will 
some  other  night.  Get  me  down  a  block  from 
Headquarters  an'  grow  reasonable.  Willin'  to  let 
me  off  if  I'll  do  just  one  small  trick  on  a  pipe  job. 
An'  then,  there's  the  dope  on  me  all  over  again, 
for  good  an'  all." 

"They're  making  New  York  pleasant  for  you," 
Comlough  commented.  "What  are  you  going  to 
do  about  it?  I  understand  that  the  usual  pro 
cedure  is  to  follow  a  man  trying  to  be  honest  and 
have  him  kicked  out  of  every  job  he  lands,  isn't  it  ?" 

"They  got  a  longer  arm  when  a  guy's  on  the 
level  than  when  he's  got  reason  to  be  duckin'." 

They  had  turned  into  the  Park.  In  the  May 
dusk  the  new  foliage  took  on  the  violet  delicacy  of 
Japanese  etching.  Comlough  stole  a  side  glance 
at  the  man  next  to  him  who  was  looking  out  on  the 
ineffable  loveliness  of  the  fulfilled  spring  evening 
with  an  expression  of  bottomless  hunger.  Com 
lough  drew  out  his  pocketbook. 

' '  You've  been  working  ?  Fixed  for  enough  to  get 
over  to  Jersey?" 

66 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Glenn  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  the  famine  not 
all  out  of  his  eyes. 

"Sure!" 

Comlough  filled  the  back  of  one  of  his  cards,  with 
writing  and  passed  it  to  him. 

"Go  over  on  Monday;  about  eleven,  I  should 
say,  would  be  a  good  time  to  get  him.  Tell  him 
how  I  met  you.  I'll  call  him  up  to-morrow  or 
Monday,  too." 

The  man  read  the  card : 

DEAR  HERSCHEL: 

This  is  Joe  Glenn,  the  "McDevitt"  who  did  seven 
years  for  making  a  monkey  out  of  your  pet  safe  in 
1910.  He's  sort  of  a  mechanical  wizard,  I  imagine, 
and  trying  to  get  a  square  deal  in  honesty  now,  but 
virtue  is  beset  with  difficulties  in  Manhattan.  The  old 
gang  is  hounding  him  over  here.  Give  him  a  berth  and 
I  shall  guarantee  him  to  the  limit. 

COOPER  COMLOUGH. 

"I'm  going  to  see  someone  close  to  Headquarters 
on  Monday,"  said  Comlough;  "and  I  promise  you 
neither  Donovan  nor  anyone  like  him  will  bother 
you  again." 

They  had  swung  out  of  the  Park  and  were  ap 
proaching  Comlough's  club.  Glenn  looked  straight 
at  him  with  his  black  eyes. 

67 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

' '  Every  once  in  a  while  a  guy  runs  into  somethin' 
white — an'  I  guess  that's  the  only  way  the  world 
keeps  goin'  between  gaps,"  he  said  with  surprising 
philosophic  accuracy.  He  looked  down  again  at 
the  card  between  his  fingers.  The  machine  drew 
up  before  the  broad  clubhouse,  and  he  reached  for 
Comlough's  hand.  "Mr.  Comlough — thanks!" 
he  said  simply.  "I'll  be  there  with  bells  on,  Mon 
day.  If  Mr.  Doliver's  willin',  neither  you  or 
him'll  regret  it,  I'm  tellin'  you." 

"All  right,  old  man,"  said  Comlough  heartily. 
"I  know  men  pretty  well  and  I  haven't  got  a 
doubt  about  you." 

They  stood  facing  each  other  on  the  pavement 
for  a  moment. 

"I  guess  you'll  never  have  no  use  for  anything  a 
guy  like  me  can  do  fer  you,"  said  Glenn;  "but  if 
you  ever  do,  Mr.  Comlough — I'll  do  anything  to 
pay  you  back.  You  can  always  reach  me  through 
my  sister — Sadie  Miles — over  at  forty- two  seventy- 
one  Flat  bush  Avenue." 

He  turned  and  walked  rapidly  away.  Comlough 
went  into  the  club  a  little  thoughtfully;  a  little 
inwardly  smiling  at  Glenn's  offer  and  unconsciously 
repeating  in  his  mind : 

68 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Sadie  Miles— 42— 71  Flatbush  Avenue." 
It  was  in  this  manner  that  Cooper  Comlough 
rescued  the  Tiger;  and  the  Tiger  professed  grati 
tude  and  pledged  himself  to  come  to  his  aid  should 
Comlough  ever  need  him. 


69 


CHAPTER  IV 

FOR  many  reasons  now  Comlough  would  have 
preferred  not  to  visit  the  Lynns,  but  Marcia  called 
him  up  and  made  him  promise  to  come  for  dinner 
the  following  night.  She  was  leaving  the  day  after 
to  open  their  country  house,  Knollynn.  He 
planned  to  go  directly  from  their  house  to  the 
station,  as  he  was  leaving  for  Washington  at 
midnight  on  certain  matters  of  importance  con 
nected  with  United  Americas  and  the  Estacado 
venture. 

He  walked  to  Lynn's  residence,  and  as  he 
approached  it  his  feelings  were  a  mixture  of  trepida 
tion  and  embarrassment.  He  had  an  unimagina 
tive  dread  of  betraying  in  some  involuntary  look, 
gesture,  or  lack  of  old  cordiality  his  knowledge  of 
Lynn's  acts,  none  of  which  in  reality  he  would — 
could — have  done.  Deep  within  him  the  tender 
ness  he  always  had  for  Marcia  was  even  greater, 
now  that  the  instinct  of  helping  had  come  with  the 
opportunity  of  so  doing.  But  he  felt  more  than 

70 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ever  under  the  necessity  of  concealing  his  feelings 
from  her. 

As  he  rang  the  bell  he  remembered — or  thought 
he  did — that  he  had  never  visited  Marcia  and 
Lynn  since  they  were  married  without  a  certain 
embarrassment  of  which  the  present  seemed  only 
an  acute  variant.  One  of  the  things  which  made  it 
easier  for  him,  however,  was  his  preoccupation  with 
his  own  affairs.  The  first  slight  hitch  in  his  plan 
to  get  control  of  the  Estacado  had  occurred  that 
day.  He  had  received  a  wire  from  Texas  that 
Kilcaim  could  not  be  found.  He  had  lighted  out 
unexpectedly  a  few  days  before,  and  none  knew 
where  he  had  gone. 

Lynn  had  fully  recovered  his  old  self-possession, 
and  Comlough  found  moments  in  which  to  admire 
what  after  all  must  have  been  an  assumed  gaiety. 
When  they  finished  dinner  Marcia  went  with  them 
into  the  library.  Just  as  they  sat  down  to  smoke, 
Miss  Graves,  the  governess,  came  in  to  call  her  to 
the  nursery  to  say  good-night  to  the  children. 

"Come  up  with  me,  Cooper,"  she  said.  "They 
will  just  love  it." 

He  went  up  into  the  beautiful,  airy  nursery  with 
its  clutters  of  toys,  sunshiny  pictures,  and  gay 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

colored  loveliness  and  general  sense  of  immaculate, 
cosy  spaciousness.  The  tiny  pajama'd  Marcia 
insisted  on  clambering  over  him,  while  the  more 
sedate  Evans  confronted  him  with  a  great,  grave 
gaze  and  the  demand  for  a  story.  He  rumpled 
little  Marcia' s  intractable  gold  curls  into  still 
greater  dishevelment  and  recited  a  kind  of  white 
house  on  a  green  hill  against  a  blue  sky  account  of 
a  wee  girl  and  big  tame  coyote  and  a  still  bigger 
horse  he  had  seen  on  a  ranch  in  Texas.  Evans 
heard  him  solemnly  through  and  courteously  said 
"Thank  you."  Little  Marcia  shoved  her  tousled 
head  under  his  arm  and  drew  his  hand  down  over 
hers.  Then  she  swung  herself  up  and  whispered, 
"I  wants  a  big  dog  and  horsey,  too,  Uncle  Cooper 
-may  I?" 

He  was  deeply  glad  that  he  had  been  able  to 
help  Lynn;  but  somehow,  the  thought  of  it  made 
him  ill  at  ease.  He  found  himself  avoiding  Mar- 
cia's  clear  gaze  whenever  it  turned  on  him.  He 
fancied  there  was  questioning  in  it.  He  wondered 
that  Lynn  could  have  risked  all  this  upon  any 
thing  in  the  world,  no  matter  how  certain  it  might 
seem. 

In  the  library  Lynn  sat  back  in  his  chair  intently 
72 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

puffing  a  cigarette,  his  coffee  untouched  on  the 
tray  beside  him.  A  speculative  gleam  lighted  his 
eyes  as  he  lazily  brought  them  to  meet  Comlough's 
when  the  latter  entered. 

"Everything  all  right  now,  Evans? "  asked  Com- 
lough. 

Lynn  nodded.  "Quite,  old  man."  He  dropped 
the  cigarette  on  the  tray  and  abruptly  got  up. 
"Come  into  the  study."  He  rang  for  the  butler. 
"Timmins,  tell  Mrs.  Lynn  Mr.  Cumlough  and  I 
are  in  the  study,  and  to  let  us  know  when  she 
comes  down." 

Comlough  had  suspected  for  some  years  that 
this  was  a  method  of  Lynn's  to  apprise  Marcia  that 
he  did  not  wish  to  be  interrupted ;  to-night  he  felt 
sure  of  it. 

As  they  entered  Lynn's  study,  a  rather  severe, 
workmanlike  shop  in  his  otherwise  sumptuous 
home,  Comlough's  attention  was  immediately 
attracted  by  an  object  not  in  the  room  when  he 
had  been  there  last.  It  was  a  polished  metal  sphere 
about  three  feet  in  diameter,  set  in  a  cast-iron  base. 
On  one  side  and  toward  the  bottom  a  few  lever-like 
projections  and  a  small  disk  knob  broke  the  shining 
smoothness  of  its  surface.  The  steel  sphere  was 

73 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

set  between  Lynn's  dull  grey  Italian  desk  and  a 
metal  cabinet. 

"What's  that?"  Comlough  pointed  to  the  big 
sphere. 

Lynn  smiled. 

"Take  a  close  look,"  he  said,  leading  the  way  to 
it.  "  Ever  see  one  like  it  ?  Can  you  see  a  crack  in 
it  anywhere?" 

For  a  moment  Comlough  saw  nothing  but  the 
unbroken  sheen  of  the  surface.  Then  he  discerned 
the  tiniest  imaginable  breath  of  a  circle  on  the 
side  about  quarter  way  round  from  the  disk  and 
levers.  He  ran  his  finger  over  it,  but  touch  was  a 
sense  too  clumsy  to  discover  it. 

"That's  the  door,"  said  Lynn.  "The  latest 
thing  in  safes.  There's  not  a  chisel  in  the  world 
that  can  nick  it,  nor  an  acid  that  can  rot  it.  Even 
if  it  were  drilled  here  at  the  knob  and  blown  apart 
it  wouldn't  rip,  and  if  it  did  it  wouldn't  do  a  bit  of 
good,  because  it  wouldn't  be  open  then.  Even  if 
it  were  got  into  by  violence,  in  spite  of  everything; 
a  current  leading  from  the  base  would  be  waiting 
inside  powerful  enough  to  electrocute  a  man." 

' '  Sounds  thrilling ! ' '  laughed  Comlough.  ' '  Where 
and  why  did  you  get  it?" 

74 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"The  Spheroid  Safe  and  Vault  Company  had  a 
master  mechanician  named  Brownlow  in  their 
shop.  He  perfected  the  first  Atlas  safe,  and  was — 
this  is  strictly  between  us,  Cooper — well,  swindled 
out  of  a  fair  share  of  the  proceeds.  He  spent  eight 
years  perfecting  this  fellow  and  I  induced  Munthe 
to  lend  him  money  to  incorporate  in  his  own  name, 
holding  security  on  his  patent.  This  is  the  first 
finished  product  he  turned  out." 

"Looks  stunning,  must  say — not  bad  in  any 
parlor,  eh?  Does  he  make  'em  in  boudoir  styles, 
too?"  asked  Comlough  solemnly.  "Got  it  for 
Marcia's  jewelry,  I  suppose?" 

"That,  and  whatever  papers  and  so  on  I  want  to 
stick  in.  Safer  than  a  bank. " 

The  same  thought  about  the  safety  of  a  bank 
must  have  gone  through  both  their  minds,  because 
Lynn  dropped  his  eyes  and  bent  over  the  safe. 
His  body  cut  Comlough  off  from  a  view  of  his 
hands.  He  heard  a  sort  of  racket  clicking ;  a  whirl 
forwards  and  backwards ;  another  triple  click  and  a 
circle  of  the  surface  raised  itself  about  two  inches 
with  a  winding  motion  as  though  unscrewing  itself 
from  the  rest.  Another  whirl  of  the  disk  and  a 
.third  racket  clicking,  and  the  circle  of  steel  slowly 

75 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

turned  on  an  invisible  hinge  like  a  door  opening. 
A  blank  wall  of  copper  stretched  across  the  open 
ing.  A  series  of  six  curved  steel  pins,  about  an 
inch  thick,  .pierced  the  copper  at  one  side  and  held 
the  circular  steel  door  as  solidly  as  though  it  were 
nailed  to  a  granite  slab. 

"That  copper  sheet  is  lined  with  a  three-inch 
thickness  of  steel.  The  outside  surface  of  the  safe 
turned  in,"  Lynn  explained. 

It  opened  and  slid  noiselessly  apart  in  response 
to  another  manipulation  of  levers  and  disk,  and 
something  he  did  to  one  of  the  hingeing  pins.  An 
array  of  little  doors  with  individual  disk  knobs 
was  revealed.  In  the  center  a  door  about  eighteen 
inches  square  evidently  guarded  the  main  box  or 
compartment,  which  was  surrounded  by  a  series 
of  varied  sized  but  much  smaller  spaces.  Lynn 
opened  the  large  door  by  its  own  combination,  and 
all  but  two  or  three  of  the  others.  There  were  nine 
in  all.  Comlough  noticed  that  once  he  took  his 
hand  from  a  knob  which  he  was  about  to  turn. 
The  opened  compartments  contained  jewel-boxes, 
papers,  trinkets  of  sorts. 

"Well,"  said  Comlough,  as  Lynn,  taking  out 
several  papers  first,  again  closed  the  safe,  "if  I  ever 

76 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

get  the  Hope  diamond  or  the  Kohinoor  or  the 
Crown  Prince's  diary  I  shall  buy  myself  one  of 
these  things." 

They  settled  themselves  into  chairs  and  Lynn 
spread  out  the  papers  he  had  taken  from  the  safe 
and  pushed  them  toward  Comlough. 

"Here's  the  first  reaction  from  the  Texan  Im 
provement  crowd.  Fifty  thousand  will  buy  that 
block." 

Comlough  had  already  given  out  two  statements 
which  had  killed  the  market  on  that  stock. 

"Good  enough  for  a  start,"  he  said.  "I'll  give 
you  an  order  for  it  on  Hannemann."  He  made  the 
order  out.  "Everything  smooth  with  you  now, 
Evans?" 

"Perfectly.  Your  plans  running  as  you  want 
them?" 

"Ye-es — "  Comlough  hovered  over  the  word. 
"Kilcairn  has  momentarily  disappeared,  that's 
all." 

"Think  he  might  have  got  wind  of  anything?" 

"No.  We'll  locate  him  in  a  day  or  so,  I  guess. 
But  it's  queer.  Left  no  word  where  he  sailed  to. 
That's  the  funny  part  of  it.  He's  the  kind  that 
leaves  tracks  a  county  wide  behind  him." 

77 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Lynn  puffed  reflectively  on  a  fresh  cigarette. 

"It  would  hold  you  up  pretty  bad  if  you  didn't 
locate  him  or  his  stock,  wouldn't  it?" 

"Throw  me  against  Bonsell  and  Cann,  that's  all. 
And  enough !  Kilcairn  could  stick  me  pretty  hard 
if  he  got  a  stray  notion." 

"It  would  be  bad  if  Bonsell  and  Cann — or 
somebody  with  their  block — got  hold  of  Kilcairn 's, 
and  got  pig-headed,  wouldn't  it?" 

Comlough  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"Damned  bad!"  he  said  grimly. 

"What's  doing  in  Washington,  Cooper?"  asked 
Lynn,  changing  the  topic. 

"An  unborn  railroad,  for  one  thing.  Here — 
this  will  give  you  the  lay  of  the  land."  He  leaned 
over  the  desk  and  traced  a  map  on  a  pad.  ' '  Here's 
the  Canassus — Utopian  Acres  are  over  there, 
northwest;  here's  Cactus  Hollow,  a  ravine  really, 
coiling  round  from  Utopian  and  shooting  a  spike 
across  and  touching  Canassus  about  here.  Here's 
a  place  called  Healy's  Farm,  where  we  connect 
with  the  Long  Horn  and  Lone  Star's  contemplated 
spur — this  is  the  line  of  their  franchise.  We're 
going  to  pocket  that  by  to-morrow  or  Thursday. 
I'm  not  waiting  till  Porter  gets  back,  after  all. 

78 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

There  are  people  in  Washington  who  can  induce 
him  to  give  me  his  whole  road,  contingent  fran 
chises  and  all.  The  entire  line  I  have  to  establish 
for  my  transportation  purposes  goes  about  like 
this.  Swinging  out  from  the  Canassus  and  Utop 
ian  through  Cactus  Hollow,  winding  in  here,  and 
out  here — Cougar  Gorge — into  Red  Basin,  over 
here  to  the  foot  of  Table  Hill  and  Erckmann's 
Creek.  It's  fairly  clear  sailing  from  there  to 
Healy's  Farm,  and  from  Healy's  Farm  to  Sheridan, 
the  last  station  on  the  Long  Horn  and  Lone  Star. 
All  these  are  spurs  we  need.  I'll  probably  switch 
the  Long  Horn  off  its  own  main  track  here  at 
Moore,  the  third  station  beyond  Sheridan,  and 
cut  across  here  with  a  new  line  to  Baird's  Ford. 
From  there  I  can  connect  up  with  the  principal 
roads,  as  well  as  Houston  and  the  Gulf,  with  a 
total  of  more  than  a  thousand  miles  of  rail  saved. 
The  route  I've  shown  you  here  is  a  hundred  dollars 
a  foot  cheaper  than  any  other  possible  one." 

Lynn  examined  the  chart  interestedly. 

"How's  Washington  going  to  settle  it?"  he 
asked. 

"Morrissey,  Lommax,  and  Krull  in  the  Senate 
and  House.  They'll  assure  me  of  what  state  con- 

79 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

cessions  I  need,  and  put  their  shoulders  to  the  sale 
of  Porter's  property  through  a  chap  named  Wai- 
pole,  who  was  associated  with  him." 

Comlough  leaned  back,  tearing  the  paper  with 
the  drawing  on  it  into  small  pieces.  He  leaned 
over  the  desk  and  threw  them  into  the  metal  waste- 
basket  behind  it. 

"Good  work,  Cooper!"  said  Lynn  quietly. 
"You're  winning  out  in  a  big  way,  old  man." 

It  did  Comlough  good  to  hear  this  from  his  old 
friend.  He  glanced  at  the  ship's  clock  on  the  man 
tel,  and  rose. 

"Got  to  trot  now,  Evans.  Have  to  drop  in  on 
Stover  before  I  leave,  to  get  a  note  from  him  to 
somebody  who  may  be  of  use  to  me  in  Washington. 
Due  to  meet  him  at  that  Broadway  club  of  his 
before  ten-thirty.  By  the  way,  ack  Timmins  to 
call  up  my  place  and  have  Ochia  bring  my  bag  to 
the  station." 

They  went  into  the  library  and  while  Lynn  in 
structed  Timmins  to  do  as  Comlough  had  re 
quested,  the  latter  took  leave  of  Marcia,  who  had 
entered  a  moment  before.  Comlough  had  the 
impression  that  she  had  been  waiting  for  them,  but 
had  respected  Lynn's  desire  not  to  be  interrupted. 

80 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

He  had  the  half  thought — half  hope,  perhaps — that 
Lynn  would  tell  her  of  his  work,  as  he  had  told  it 
to  Lynn.  He  both  wanted  and  didn't  want  her  to 
surmise  how  much  of  his  love  for  her  had  been 
turned  into  the  channels  of  his  work. 

"I'll  go  a  ways  with  you,"  said  Lynn  suddenly, 
as  Comlough  turned  to  shake  hands  with  him. 

They  walked  down  Fifth  Avenue  a  few  blocks, 
then  stood  on  a  corner  chatting,  while  Comlough 
kept  a  lookout  for  a  taxi.  Walking  alone  up  Fifth 
Avenue  a  stylishly  garbed  woman  passed  them. 
Comlough  was  glancing  down  the  avenue  for  a 
cab,  but  as  the  woman  passed  he  happened  to  turn 
toward  Lynn  sufficiently  to  note  his  expression. 
Lynn's  face  had  that  predatory  impassiveness 
with  which  the  better  bred  male  appraises  a  casual 
woman  who  might  interest  him. 

In  the  taxi  Comlough  found  himself  meditating 
over  that  expression  on  Lynn's  face  as  the  woman 
passed.  The  incident — it  hardly  was  one — rather 
one  of  those  little  moments  of  casual  appearance 
which  sometimes  let  outsiders  deeper  into  men's 
souls  than  years  of  day-to-day  companionship — 
maintained  itself  insistently  in  his  mind.  To  save 
his  soul  he  could  not  keep  from  connecting  Marcia 
6  81 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

with  it  either,  which  irritated  him.  He  had  no 
especial  sympathy  with  anchorite  ideals,  being 
neither  a  hermit  nor  a  monk  in  a  world  populated 
to  a  charming  degree  by  desirable  women;  but 
there  were  considerations  of  square  play  involved 
in  a  partnership  of  faith  with  a  woman  like  Marcia. 
It  was  not  a  question  of  decency,  perhaps,  but 
certainly  one  of  good  breeding  for  Lynn  to  give 
no  occasion  for  speculation  to  any  man.  Himself 
— Lynn — included.  Somehow,  he  seemed  to  be 
happening  upon  Lynn  a  great  deal  lately  in  be 
trayals  of  that  credo  of  his — good  form. 


82 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  entrance  to  the  Broadway  political  club 
which  Deems  Stover  visited  on  necessary  occasions 
was  by  way  of  a  continuous  double  flight  of  stairs. 
At  best,  day  and  night  they  were  dingily  lighted; 
and  to-night,  as  Comlough  climbed  them,  a  curi 
ous  thing  happened.  He  was  half  way  up  the 
second  flight  when  the  low  candle-power  lamps 
over  the  landings  went  out  and  the  stair  and  hall 
were  blanketed  in  darkness.  At  that  moment  a 
spread  of  illumination  was  emitted  for  a  moment 
as  the  club-room  door  above  opened  and  two  men 
came  out.  They  closed  the  door  and  stood  for  a 
moment  on  the  landing  above  Comlough. 

"Hell,  Pooley,  what's  the  idear  anyways?" 
said  a  mean,  whining  voice.  "I  been  waitin'  since 
twen'y  after  nine  en'  et's  twen'y  o'  'leven  now. 
'N  hour  V  twen'y  minits.  What  'n  hell  kep' 
che?" 

"Swell  time  I  had  diggin'  up  Weaver,"  grumbled 
a  thick  voice  in  response.  "Keep  yer  shirt  on — I 

83 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

got  the  real  dope  now,  an'  we'll  stick  the  thing 
through.  Where'll  we  go?" 

"Damn  it,  it's  late's  hell  f'r  me  now  an'  I  gotta 
come  'cross  with  a  couple  pulls  an'  yank  someb'dy 
inna  that  damn'  Night  Court  t'night  or'll  be 
hell  t'  pay  with  me.  Stagg's  give  me  warnin' 
jes'  t'night." 

"Ah,  cheese  it — thet'll  be  easy  'miff  t'do.  It 
won'  take  us  more'n  a  half  an'  hour.  Let's  go  over 
to  Sol's.  Kelly'll  mebbe  be  there.  Ye'll've  loads 
o'  time  t'  shoot  along  Broadway  yet  an'  nab  off 
any  ol'  tart." 

"Awright,"  agreed  the  other  sullenly. 

Comlough  shuffled  purposely  against  the  steps, 
and  the  two  men  above  started  promptly  down. 
They  jostled  him  slightly  in  passing.  As  he 
fumbled  for  the  doorknob  to  the  club-room  the 
lights  went  on  again.  Out  of  curiosity  he  bent  over 
the  bannister  and  looked  down.  The  stouter  of  the 
two  men,  who  were  now  just  reaching  the  street 
level,  had  on  a  gray  suit  and  a  black  derby;  the 
other,  somewhat  cut  off  from  Comlough 's  view  by 
his  companion,  wore  a  suit  of  brown  stuff  and  a 
brown  Fedora. 

He  opened  the  door  and  went  in.  Those  who 
84 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

know  Deems  Stover  have  probably  felt  the  in 
congruity  of  him  in  any  such  surroundings.  At 
once  the  antithesis  and  parallel  in  political  acu 
men  to  M.  B.  Patricks — the  famous  M.  B.,  po 
litical  Nestor  to  the  New  York  Chronicle  and  all  of 
the  Walsh  papers;  a  quiet-spoken  gentleman  who 
knows  by  intuition  the  unexpected  dartings  of  the 
political  goose  which  may  lay  golden  eggs  and 
never  recommends  slaughtering  it — Stover,  too, 
was  quiet-spoken,  sagacious,  and  a  gentleman. 
But  in  contrast  to  M.  B.  he  seemed  a  precocious 
child;  not  as  old  as  Tammany  itself — slender, 
boyish,  alert,  smiling.  A  thin,  long  face,  with  a 
thinner,  longer  nose,  and  thick  dark  brown  hair; 
steady,  lens-like  eyes,  a  slight  Yankee  nasality  of 
speech.  He  knew  everybody,  could  use  them  and 
everything  from  the  spread-eagle  to  the  walking 
delegate.  He  divided  life  equally  between  meeting 
people,  the  long-distance  telephone,  and  the  tele 
graph  office.  And  always  there  remained  his 
youth  and  enthusiasm;  especially  youth — the 
more  astonishing  that  since  he  was  out  of  college 
this  boy  had  been  in  the  most  youth-sapping,  illu 
sion-crushing  game  in  the  world.  Probably  he  had 
retained  his  youth  because  he  had  never  had  any 

85 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

illusions  to  lose.  He  had  been  born  enthusiastically 
sophisticated,  and  sophistication  being  one  of 
those  rare  traits  of  man  likely  to  suffer  no  diminu 
tion  in  force  with  the  years,  he  had  kept  both  it, 
his  enthusiasm,  and  his  youth. 

Standing  behind  the  rickety  railing  now,  which 
was  supposed  to  give  a  conference  privacy  to  one 
end  of  the  big  room,  talking  to  a  puffed-out  man 
who  dangled  a  fraternal  watch  charm  that  would 
almost  have  covered  a  teacup,  nobody  would  have 
suspected  that  Stover  was  the  mental  and  or 
ganizing  force  behind  some  of  the  most  astonishing 
political  maneuvering  in  the  State  and  country. 
Without  interrupting  his  conversation  he  waved  a 
boyish  greeting  through  the  fog  of  tobacco  smoke 
at  Comlough,  as  soon  as  the  latter  entered.  Com- 
lough  picked  his  way  between  two  intensive  poker 
games  with  an  extensive  fringe  of  spectators  who 
seemed  to  resent  his  efforts  to  get  through. 

"Hello!  Waiting  for  you,  Cooper,"  Stover 
gripped  his  hand.  "Let  it  go  at  that  then,  Sam, 
and  ring  up  Smiley  to-morrow  and  tell  him  how 
you  made  out.  .  .  .  Come  over  here,  Cooper." 
He  led  the  way  to  the  farthest  corner  of  the  railed- 
off  space.  "Sit  down,  boy." 

86 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Just  left  Lynn.  Had  dinner  up  there  to-night. 
Wants  to  be  remembered  to  you." 

1 '  How's  he,  anyway  ?  I  saw  him  about  a  week — 
I  know  exactly — Wednesday  afternoon,  first  of 
May,"  Stover  had  that  gift  of  exact  memory 
for  passing  trifles.  "Over  on  Thirty-seventh 
Street  just  off  Sixth  Avenue.  He  was  with 
Marcia — I  think.  Didn't  get  a  chance  to  get  to 
him." 

Comlough's  mind  reverted  to  the  incident  of  the 
passing  woman  on  Fifth  Avenue  a  half -hour  be 
fore,  and  matched  it  with  Stover's  words.  He 
happened  to  know  that  on  Wednesday,  May  first, 
Marcia  had  not  been  in  town.  Stover  took  some 
thing  from  his  pocket. 

"Here's  your  letter  to  DePinna.  You  know 
Dick  Worthington  and  Billy  McDill  pretty  well, 
don't  you,  Cooper?" 

"Of  all  the  august  Senate  and  the  honorable 
House,  none  better." 

"Well,  it  should  be  clear  sailing,  then.  Wor 
thington  has  strings  on  your  man  Walpole, 
and  McDill  is  thick  with  your  Venezuelan 
party." 

They  talked  a  few  minutes  more  and  then  went 
87 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

downstairs  together,  parting  at  the  curb  where 
Stover  entered  a  gray  touring  car,  to  be  rushed 
off  to  some  midnight  conference  or  other. 

Comlough  walked  slowly  down  Broadway  lost 
in  the  flux  of  half  thoughts.  He  was  rather  gro 
tesquely  summoned  out  of  them.  A  woman  jostled 
against  him  in  the  crowd  issuing  from  a  theater. 
Her  face  came  close  to  his;  her  eyes,  fairly  large 
but  like  diamonds  for  hardness  and  intentness 
fastened  on  his ;  her  body  grazed  his  insinuatingly, 
while  a  reek  of  patchouli  and  violets  and  odorifer 
ous  talcum  swirled  round  him  and  she  and  he  were 
separated  by  the  infillading  crowd. 

He  sought  to  place  her.  He  had  seen  her  some 
where  before.  Then  he  recalled,  not  her,  but  a 
woman  he  did  not  know  either,  but  of  whom  she 
reminded  him — the  woman  who  had  passed  Lynn 
and  himself  on  Fifth  Avenue.  Had  she  not  been 
coming  out  of  the  theater — the  program  still 
in  her  hands — he  would  have  believed  she  was  the 
same  one.  He  crossed  Thirty-fourth  Street  and 
turned  toward  the  station,  when  he  noticed  that  it 
was  only  a  quarter-past  eleven,  an  hour  before  his 
train  left.  He  was  not  sleepy,  and  the  night  was 
lovelier  outdoors  than  in  a  berth.  Hesitating  a 

8$ 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

moment  on  the  opposite  side  of  Broadway  he 
faced  north  again  and  walked  back. 

As  he  approached  Forty-second  Street,  in  the 
still- water  blocks  between  it  and  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House,  a  figure  detached  itself  from  the 
straggling  file  of  pedestrians  coming  toward  him, 
separated  from  others  on  the  pavements  by  some 
thing  familiar.  It  was  the  woman  who  had  passed 
him  on  the  other  side  of  Broadway. 

Between  her  and  him  a  man  was  sauntering  north 
ward.  Suddenly  he  half  turned  toward  a  shop- 
window,  bringing  himself  squarely  in  front  of  her. 
It  seemed  to  Comlough  that  he  said  something  to 
the  woman,  but  he  noticed  that  she  stepped  out  of 
his  way — further  than  this,  paying  no  attention  to 
the  man.  Yet  the  man's  gaze  followed  her  for  an 
instant,  and  abruptly  he  turned  and  did  the  same, 
overtaking  her  a  few  feet  in  front  of  Comlough. 
Again  she  veered  a  little  to  one  side  and  at  the 
same  moment  the  man's  hand  grasped  her  arm. 
He  wore  a  suit  of  brown  stuff  and  a  brown  Fe 
dora.  Comlough  heard  him  say,  in  a  mean,  whin 
ing  voice : 

"C'mon!" 

"Leave  me  go!"  Her  eyes  were  glittering  and 
89 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

beady  as  a  snake's.    The  man  turned  back  his  coat 
and  disclosed  a  metal  shield. 

"  Y're  run  in,  see  ?  I  been  watchin'  ye  the  hull  night 
prowlin'  up  en'  down  here,  an'  y'  c'n  think  up  a  story 
t'  tell  the  magistrate  down  at  the  Night  Court." 

In  the  instant  before  Comlough  spoke — quicker 
even  than  the  woman  had  a  chance  to  reply — he 
had  a  flashlight  picture  of  wry  humor  of  himself 
interfering  for  the  third  time  in  ten  days  with  the 
process,  right  or  otherwise,  of  the  law.  But  the 
power  of  seeing  himself  from  a  spectator's  point  of 
view  lessened  nothing  of  something  akin  to  fury 
at  the  man  in  front  of  him,  whom  he  recognized 
as  one  of  the  two  who  had  passed  him  on  the  dark 
stairs  leading  to  the  club-room. 

"Suppose  you  take  your  hands  from  that 
woman?"  he  said  levelly. 

The  man  shot  at  him  a  leer  of  indifference. 
"Say — outside  with  that  stuff,  feller!  Y'run 
'long  'r  I'll  haul  y'in,  too,  see?" 

"You  heard  what  I  said." 

"Say — "  He  interrupted  himself  to  give  Com 
lough  a  second  glance,  not  of  indifference  this  time, 
but  of  hate.  ' '  Hey,  there,  Dave ! "  he  called  across 
the  street. 

90 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

From  the  other  side  a  patrolman  separated  him 
self  from  the  shadows  of  the  shops. 

"Where'n  hell  d'ye  git  this  stuff,  heh?  Y' 
stand  there!"  spat  the  plain-clothes  man  at  Com- 
lough,  whipping  himself  into  a  rage  and  with  each 
syllable  of  his  rising  voice  adding  another  to  the 
gallery. 

"What's  up,  Gus?"  demanded  the  patrolman. 

"This  stiff  here's  tryin'  t'intafere  with  me  pullin' 
this  Jane  here.  I  gotta  notion  t'  run  'im  in,  too — 
wha'  d'  ye  say?" 

The  officer  looked  Comlough  over.  He  was  a 
shrewder  judge  of  people  than  the  other,  but  he 
also  knew  how  the  average  human  loathes  being 
implicated  in  a  "scene." 

"What's  the  idee — go  'head,  run  'long!"  he 
growled,  addressing  not  Comlough  particularly 
but  the  whole  gathering  of  spectators.  He  raised 
his  club  slightly  to  one  side.  "The  'ole  bunch 
o'ye — break  'way  there — d'ye  hear? — whadda  ye's 
standin'  here  fur?"  Now  he  gripped  Comlough's 
arm  and  attempted  to  turn  him  round. 

Comlough  wrenched  his  arm  loose  with  a  jerk, 
anger  in  him  mingled  with  disgust  at  having  im 
plicated  himself  in  this  mess. 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Where  do  you  imagine  you  are?  If  you  put 
your  fingers  on  me  I'll  have  that  badge  and  uniform 
off  you  in  an  hour.  That  fellow  was  out  to  make  an 
arrest  without  investigating  who  he  took.  I  saw 
the  whole  thing,  and  he'll  let  that  woman  go  or 
I'll  know  why." 

The  patrolman  was  impressed.  ' '  Hadda  make  a 
pull! — What'n — "  spluttered  the  plain-clothes 
man ;  but  the  other  interrupted  him.  "  If  ye  know 
so  much  'bout  it — I  guess  ye  kin  go  down  with  her 
and  tell  it!"  he  said  to  Comlough,  weakening  a 
little,  however. 

"I  most  certainly  will — ! "  began  Comlough,  and 
stopped.  It  was  the  last  thing  he  wanted  to  do. 
A  clock  diagonally  across  the  street  pointed  to 
twenty  minutes  of  twelve.  His  train  left  at  12:15. 
The  two  officers  saw  his  look  of  hesitancy  and  both 
took  it  for  a  backdown. 

"Ring  fer  the  wagon!"  snapped  the  plain- 
clothes  man  instantly.  He  walked  with  the  woman 
in  the  wake  of  the  patrolman  and  Comlough 
through  a  scattering  of  onlookers. 

"I  assure  you  you  shall  be  sorry  for  this — both 
of  you!"  Comlough  protested. 

His  words  pricked  the  patrolman's  pride  of  office 
92 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

or  insulted  his  thick  imperviousness  to  regret.  He 
wheeled  menacingly. 

"Say — listen  here,  you!  I  heard  'bout  all  out 
o'  you  I'm  gonna  take — get  that?  A  minute 
more'n  I'm  gonna  run  ye  in.  Now,  you  beat  it!" 

All  Comlough's  thoughts  of  catching  his  train 
vanished  in  the  painful  realization  of  the  increasing 
and  idiotic  complications  of  the  situation.  He 
stepped  to  a  taxi  whose  driver  had  slowed  up  to 
watch  the  excitement. 

' '  Follow  the  police  wagon  wherever  it  takes  her," 
he  said. 

As  he  got  in  his  eyes  met  the  woman's.  There 
was  a  brazen  mixture  of  camaraderie,  self-interest, 
anger,  thanks,  and  speculation  in  her  face  and  eyes. 
Particularly  speculation  as  to  the  extent  and  exact 
character  of  his  interest  in  her  predicament. 


93 


CHAPTER  VI 

JEFFERSON  MARKET  Night  Court  is  no  longer 
the  midnight  cabaret  of  the  morbidly  curious  nor 
the  stamping  chamber  of  the  sociological  dilettante. 
There  were  already  stricter  rules  than  formerly  re 
garding  admission. 

"What'che  wanna  g'in  fer?"  the  doorkeeper 
clipped  in  speech  which  resembled  a  contracted 
hiss. 

"Witness,"  answered  Comlough. 

"Where's  'r  loy'r?  Y'can't  g'in  wit'ou'n  aut'r'- 
sayshun." 

"Who  is  sitting  on  the  bench  to-night?" 

"J'jjech  R's'lll'sky." 

"What?" 

"Jjjj'esh  Rr-s'11'sky!"  he  repeated  angrily. 

Comlough  regarded  him  hopelessly.  "Roslav- 
sky — judge  Roslavsky!"  a  bystander  irritatedly 
assisted  Comlough. 

Comlough  knew  many  of  the  city's  judiciary, 
but  not  Roslavsky.  From  what  he  remembered 

94 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

having  heard  of  him  he  dimly  knew  him  for  one  of 
the  average  men  on  the  bench;  an  organization 
judge  with  eyes  cast  on  the  Supreme  Justiceship 
probably,  humanly  fair  and  unbrilliant — one  of 
those  men  whose  actual  tenure  of  office  causes  no 
admiring  commotion  in  the  populace,  but  whose 
campaign  cards  when  they  trend  upward  reveal 
them  to  have  been  Nestors  in  the  service  of  the 
common  weal.  He  wished  Wendleton  had  been 
the  sitting  judge.  He  had  only  recently  expressed 
himself  in  no  mincing  terms  on  officers  who  brought 
in  innocent  and  semi-innocent  girls  to  swell  the 
list  of  their  arrests  or  in  connivance  with  shysters 
who  battened  on  the  panic  of  women.  Comlough 
wrote  a  sentence  on  one  of  his  cards ;  a  terse  refer 
ence  to  Deems  Stover. 

"Pass  that  up  to  the  clerk,  please." 
In  a  few  minutes  he  was  inside,  and  sat  in  the 
back  of  the  big  dismal  room,  with  its  drab  gather 
ing  of  accused  and  the  immediately  interested, 
sentimentally  and  financially. 

Slick-haired,  ratty-eyed  attorneys  scurried  up 
and  down  the  aisle ;  the  strict  insistence  upon  hat- 
doffing  seemed  a  mockery  here  in  this  atmosphere 
of  antique  modes  of  vice,  patchouli,  and  strong 

95 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

scent  of  tobacco,  although  smoking  stopped  at 
the  door.  A  patrolman  in  clean  blue  uniform, 
clasping  his  hat,  standing  like  a  statue  on  the  lower 
step  of  the  judge's  dais,  gave  the  only  bit  of  clean 
color.  A  dapper,  gray-headed  man,  with  a  range  of 
staccato  gestures  and  a  voice  with  shrill  gamut  runs 
was  baiting  the  officer  on  behalf  of  a  corpulent, 
rouged  blonde  in  black  who  sat  in  the  prisoner's 
chair.  The  lawyer's  voice  suddenly  dropped  into  a 
hoarse,  enraged  mimicry  of  the  patrolman's  last 
words.  Roslavsky  started  a  bit;  he  had  been 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  his  black  cloak  floating 
up  in  a  somber  triangle  under  his  hands  which 
supported  his  chin  on  the  tips  of  his  fingers  in  a 
manner  which  afforded  the  maximum  judicial  self- 
possession  with  the  maximum  inattentiveness. 

Comlough  noticed  a  man  with  the  face  of  a  sa 
vant  sliding  noiselessly  up  the  aisle,  with  the  effect 
of  covering  space  without  effort.  In  his  dark  suit 
and  downcast  eyes  he  was  a  study  in  low  visibility. 

' '  Barney ! ' '  Comlough  reached  out  and  touched 
his  arm.  Without  a  sign  of  surprise  crossing  his 
melancholy  countenance  the  other  stopped  and 
slipped  down  beside  Comlough.  This  was  the 
man  Stover  called  "the  incarnation  of  the  shadows 

96 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

on  the  backstairs  of  men's  affairs  since  the  first 
attempt  men  made  to  secure  power  over  other 
men  by  the  ballot." 

' '  Can  you  work  a  case  up  to  the  top  of  the  docket 
forme?" 

The  other  nodded. 

"It's  the  arrest  just  made  at  Forty-first  and 
Broadway  by  a  plain-clothes  man  named  Gus." 

The  semi-invisible  being  beside  him  raised  his 
expressionless  eyes  to  Comlough's  in  a  strangely 
regardless  glance.  It  was  also  Stover  who  had 
said  that  Barney  read  the  secrets  of  your  grand 
father  in  that  moth-like  look.  He  got  up,  and 
slipped  down  the  aisle. 

Five  minutes  later  Comlough  saw  the  matron 
come  out  of  the  door  on  the  left,  whisper  to  the 
clerk  who  in  turn  rose  and  passed  a  slip  of  paper 
to  Roslavsky.  The  judge  nodded.  The  present 
case  was  disposed  of  a  few  moments  later.  Directly 
afterward  the  woman  on  whose  behalf  Comlough 
was  there  was  brought  in.  He  saw  the  plain- 
clothes  man  who  had  arrested  her  rise  from  a  group 
of  men  on  the  right  down  in  front,  with  a  distinct 
start  of  surprise. 

"Estelle  de  Courtney— 'rested— F'r'ty-f'st'n- 
7  97 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Broadw'y — b'Of'ca  Merkle — f'r — 'costin' — m'n — 
non — streets ! ' '  The  clerk  half  rose  and  hiccoughed 
the  tidings  of  Estelle  de  Courtney's  presence  forth 
to  the  court,  then  passed  the  paper  from  which  he 
read  to  Roslavsky,  who  made  a  note  on  his  tablet. 

As  she  sat  down  in  the  prisoner's  chair  Comlough 
for  the  first  time  gained  a  completed  impression  of 
her.  There  was  a  sinuosity  to  her  movements 
which  did  not  depart  from  her  even  when  she  sat 
down,  but  continued  to  manifest  itself  in  the  ad 
vance  and  recession  of  her  silk-sheathed  ankle 
which,  as  she  crossed  her  knees,  moved  to  and  fro 
with  a  snaky  swiftness  at  a  discreet  distance  from 
the  floor.  That  silken  three  or  four  inches  of 
quickly  swinging  ankle  characterized  her.  Even 
her  features,  alive  and  intent  for  all  the  admirably 
held  pose  of  indifference,  had  it — that  air  of  un 
coiling  sleaziness;  that  flexibility  of  flimsily  clad 
motion  which  was  almost  reptilian,  and  just  as 
fascinating. 

"Have  you  a  lawyer?"  Roslavsky  asked  her. 

"If  you  please,  your  honor!"  Comlough  had 
come  forward  to  the  end  of  the  aisle,  holding  a 
little  white  rectangle  in  his  hand.  He  spoke  as 
quietly  as  possible  to  be  heard  by  Roslavsky,  but 

98 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

every  eye  in  the  room  was  drawn  to  him.  "Your 
honor — "  he  stood  before  the  judge's  bench  now 
and  extended  his  card — "I  am  Cooper  Comlough. 
I  was  passing  by  when  the  arrest  of  the  prisoner 
took  place,  and  although  I  have  never  spoken  a 
word  to  her  nor  she  to  me,  I  should  like  to  appear 
for  her,  merely  as  a  citizen  who  witnessed  an  out 
rage  and  is  anxious  to  do  his  duty  by  simple  jus 
tice." 

Roslavsky  looked  at  the  card  which  had  been 
passed  to  him,  and  nodded  with  awakened  interest. 
Comlough  leaned  toward  the  clerk.  Officer  Merkle 
was  requested  to  testify. 

"Your  honor,  that  man  attempted  to  interfere 
with — "  began  Merkle,  actual  fear  on  his  face. 
Roslavsky  cut  him  short  with  a  sharp  rap  of  his 
gavel. 

' '  Officer  Merkle ! "  he  said  with  ominous  severity. 
Better  than  anyone  in  the  courtroom  Roslavsky 
recognized  the  power  of  influential  opinion  with 
which  Comlough,  whom  he  knew  by  sight,  might 
at  some  critical  time  be  able  to  reward  him.  "You 
are  called  upon  to  testify,  and  you  will  please 
state  the  facts  upon  which  you  arrested  the 
prisoner." 

99 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Merkle  twiddled  his  Fedora.  ' '  I  was  'signed  to 
duty  'n  Broadway  f'om  Thirty-fort'  to  Forty- 
sec'n  Street.  I  got  t'  Forty-sec'n'  at  nine-fifteen 
en'  'bout  a  half -hour  later  I  seen  the  pris'ner  foist, 
walkin'  by  the  Heral'  Buildin'.  She  stopped  'side 
a  man  thet  wus  readin'  the  buU'tins  en'  she  turned 
t'  'im  en'  said  somethin'.  He  turned  away  en' 
walked  off.  I  follered  her,  en'  I  seen  her  walkin' 
close  ta  three  other  men,  but  I  don'  know  ef  she 
spoke  t'  'em — "  He  was  getting  hold  of  himself  in 
his  impudently  meek  and  stupid  recital  of  what  he 
purported  to  be  facts,  and  now  adopted  a  pose  of 
exactness.  "No — "  he  meditated  slightly  over 
the  word — "no,  I  don'  think  she  spoke  t'  any  of 
'em.  Et  Forty-sec'n'  she  crossed  over  en'  I  los' 
track  of  'er  in  Times  Square.  'Boutta  hour  later 
I  seen  'er  agen,  en'  this  time  I  seen  'er  talkin'  ta 
a  man  et  Thirty-eight'  Street.  They  walked  down 
a  block  en'  he  left  her,  en'  she  walked  on  slow  agen. 
I  follered  'er  on  two  trips  she  made  'tween  the 
McAlpin  en'  Times  Square,  en'  then  I  passed  'er 
'tween  Forty  en'  Forty-foist.  When  I  passed  'er 
she  a'costed  me.  When  I  went  by  she  sed :  'Good- 
evenin'!'  I  sed,  '  Good-evenin','  back,  en'  turned 
en'  walked  b'side  'er  en'  she  came  close  t'  me  en' 

100 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

sed,  'Where're'  ye  goin'?'  en'  I  sed,  'Where 're 
ye  goin'?'  en'  she  sed  back,  'Where  d'ye  wanna 
go? '  en'  I  sed  back  then,  '  Downna  the  Night  Court 
wit'  me.'  She  started  to  shy  off  me  then  en'  I  got 
holt  of  'er  arm,  en'  the  foist  thing  I  know  that — 

gentamin — comes  up  en' " 

"Officer  Merkle — that  is  sufficient!"  broke  in 
Roslavsky.  "Your  great  trouble,  as  I  have  told 
you  again  and  again  in  this  courtroom,  has  always 
been  your  extreme  haziness  in  regard  to  what  it  is 
the  court's  purpose  to  learn  at  any  specific  time, 
and  your  ineradicable  tendency  to  launch  out  on 
some  issue  in  which  the  court  at  the  moment  is  not 
interested,  and  in  which,  in  its  stupidity,  perhaps, 
it  is  reluctant  to  be  charmed  to  a  departure  from 
its  customary  procedure,  with  all  due  respect  to 
the  harmonies  of  your  discourse.  Officer  Merkle, 
just  at  this  particular  moment  you  are  not  on  trial, 
neither  is  the  gentleman  who  has  come  forward  in 
this  case  as  witness.  What  we  are  solely  interested 
in  for  the  moment  is  the  reason  the  prisoner  who  is 
— is.  Let  this  sink  into  your  intelligence,  if  I  am 
not  flattering  you.  If  once  again  I  have  to  inter 
rupt  the  business  of  this  court  to  instruct  you  in  the 
elements  of  procedure,  a  reprimand  which  shall 

101 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

carry  with  it  a  salutary,  tangible  reproof  will  be 
meted  out  to  you,  sir." 

He  finished  on  a  note  of  triumphant  bitter 
ness,  and  looked  at  Comlough.  He  was  too 
clever  a  man  to  seem  to  be  seeking  approba 
tion;  but  Comlough  felt  that  the  Judge  had 
been  playing,  as  the  phrase  carries,  to  him  ex 
clusively. 

"Your  honor,"  Comlough  addressed  him  with  a 
slight  bow,  "the  statements  of  this  officer,  besides 
being  ridiculous  and  condemnatory  of  himself  to 
start  with,  are  not  statements  at  all,  but  misstate- 
ments.  Your  honor,  this  man  has  said  that  he 
was  detailed  for  duty  on  Broadway  and  that  from 
shortly  after  nine  o'clock  until  the  time  of  the 
arrest  of  the  prisoner  was  fulfilling  his  duty.  Your 
honor,  I  do  not  know  where  the  officer  was  at  nine- 
fifteen.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  saw  the  prisoner 
in  Herald  Square  then,  but  I  do  know,  if  his  own 
words  to  an  acquaintance  of  his  can  be  believed, 
that  he  was  not  following  his  duties;  that  he  was 
not  on  Broadway  for  one  hour  and  twenty  minutes ; 
namely,  not  from  nine-twenty  until  twenty 
minutes  of  eleven ;  but  that  he  was  in  the  rooms  of 
the  Longacre  Political  Association  waiting  for  a 

1 02 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

friend — a  man  he  called  Pooley — during  that  hour 
and  twenty  minutes. 

"Your  honor,  I  was  going  up  the  stairs  of  the 
club  at  twenty  minutes  to  eleven  when  the  hall 
lights  went  out,  and  this  officer  and  the  man  he 
called  Pooley  came  out  of  the  club-room.  It  was 
then  I  overheard  him  say  that  he  had  been  waiting 
for  one  hour  and  twenty  minutes.  His  words,  your 
honor,  as  I  remember  them,  were  these:  'What's 
the  idea,  Pooley,  of  keeping  me  waiting  since  nine- 
twenty?  It's  twenty  of  eleven  now — one  hour  and 
twenty  minutes.'  The  man  addressed  as  Pooley 
answered:  'I  had  a  hard  time  getting  Weaver, 
but  we  have  everything  settled  now  and  we'll  put 
the  deal  through.  Where  shall  we  go  to  talk  it 
over?' 

"Now,  your  honor,  the  next  words  spoken  by 
Officer  Merkle  indicate  the  reason  why  I  am  here. 
It  is  not  to  obstruct  justice,  your  honor,  but  to  see 
it  carried  out — and  that  properly.  The  next  words 
of  Officer  Merkle  also  explain  the  presence  of  the 
prisoner,  I  believe,  better  than  any  possible  in 
fraction  of  municipal  ordinances  of  which  she  could 
have  been  capable.  These  were  Officer  Merkle's 
next  words : '  Damn  it,  Pooley,  it's  late  for  me  now, 

103 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

and  I  have  just  got  to  make  some  arrests  to-night 
and  bring  somebody  into  the  Night  Court  or  there 
will  be  hell  to  pay.  I  have  to  do  it  because  Stagg 
gave  me  warning  just  to-night.' 

"Your  honor,  to  offer  the  last  bit  of  evidence 
that  in  the  pursuance  of  his  sworn  duty  this  man 
had  neither  the  time  this  evening,  nor  the  con 
science,  nor  even  the  inclination  to  make  just  and 
only  just  arrests — the  conversation  which  I  over 
heard  between  him  and  his  companion  concluded 
in  this  fashion:  Pooley:  'Come  on,  it  will  be  easy 
enough  for  you  to  make  an  arrest.  We  shall  not 
be  longer  than  a  half  hour.  Let  us  go  over  to — ' 
Your  honor,  I  have  forgotten  the  name  of  the 
place  where  he  suggested  going,  but  I  remember 
that  they  were  to  meet  another  man  by  the  name 
of  Kelly  there — 'you  will  have  plenty  of  time/ 
Pooley  said  to  Officer  Merkle,  'to  go  along  Broad 
way  and  arrest  any  woman.'  Officer  Merkle's 
response  to  this,  your  honor,  was :  'All  right ! ' ' 

The  plain-clothes  man  was  white;  a  dastardly, 
sickly  white.  His  eyes  had  a  shifting  terror  in 
them  now.  It  was  only  incidental — this  affair  of 
the  woman  he  had  arrested  now.  The  other  thing 
Comlough  had  hit  upon,  which  involved  Weaver 

104 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

and  Pooley  and  Kelly,  was  the  basis  of  the  panic 
that  sucked  the  color  out  of  his  cheeks.  That  side 
of  Merkle  is  another  story.  In  course  of  time  it 
put  him  where  he  still  is,  and  put  him  there  as  a 
direct  result  of  Comlough's  testimony.  However, 
requoting  Kipling,  that  is  another  story. 

The  big  room  was  tensely  still.  The  spectacle 
of  one  member  of  the  notoriously  indolent  human 
race  voluntarily  exerting  himself  on  behalf  of 
another  presented  a  simple  form  of  drama  which  is 
always  appealing,  from  its  unusualness  if  from  noth 
ing  else.  From  Roslavsky  to  the  sinuous  figure  in  the 
prisoner's  chair,  every  eye  fastened  on  Comlough. 
His  voice  took  on  a  quietly  flaying  bitterness. 

"Your  honor,  I  am  here  on  behalf  of  no  prisoner 
or  victim  of  injustice.  I  am  here,  at  a  serious  in 
convenience  to  myself,  on  behalf  of  the  citizens  of 
this  commonwealth.  I  know  nothing  about  the 
prisoner.  I  know  nothing  nor  claim  to  know  any 
thing  of  her  life  or  modes  of  it — but  I  do  know  that 
arrested  in  the  spirit  in  which  she  was  arrested  she 
suffered  an  indignity  in  which  she  is  not  alone,  but 
which  strikes  at  every  citizen  of  this  community; 
that  she  is  as  innocent  of  this  particular  charge 
bringing  her  here  as  our  own  sisters  and  wives 

105 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

might  be,  and  that  the  kind  of  thing  which  threat 
ened  and  overwhelmed  her  to-night,  if  not  checked, 
will  overwhelm  sometime  or  other,  likely  enough, 
our  own  sisters  and  wives  and  daughters.  Your 
honor,  I  appreciate  the  privilege  I  received  with 
your  permission  to  testify  in  this  court." 

On  the  Sixth  Avenue  sidewalk  a  few  minutes 
later  Comlough  called  a  taxi  for  the  woman.  She 
was  subdued  to  the  extent  that  the  provocative 
sinuousness  of  her  did  not  flaunt  itself,  and  the 
reptilian  glitter  of  her  eyes  was  quite  replaced  by  a 
momentary  softening.  It  was  obvious,  however, 
that  no  pronounced  revolution  of  character  had 
taken  place  in  her  through  what  must  certainly 
have  been  one  of  the  most  unexpected  episodes  of 
her  life.  In  the  glance  which  she  threw  sideways 
at  Comlough  as  the  cab  drew  up,  there  was  the 
natural  curiosity  of  a  woman  wondering  how  far  it 
was  the  positive  pull  of  herself,  woman,  attractive, 
alluring,  insinuating  in  her  serpentine  smoothness 
of  garb  and  form,  which  had  drawn  him  to  her 
defense,  as  against  the  abstract  injustice  of  her 
position.  As  she  got  into  her  cab  she  stopped  and 
seized  his  hand  in  both  of  hers. 

106 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Mr.  Comlough — !"  A  saving  sense  of  humor 
bashed  what  was  evidently  an  inborn  instinct  for 
the  theatrical.  She  gave  him  the  exceeding  re 
ward  instead,  of  being  natural,  and  honored  him 
with  recognition  of  the  quixotism  of  his  act  by 
thanking  him  undramatically.  "You  and  I  are 
a  long  way  apart,  although  you  were  game  enough 
to  talk  about  me  and  your  wife  and  sisters  in  the 
same  sentence.  Fair  enough.  It's  good  to  hear 
once  in  a  while  from  the  upper  classes."  At  that 
moment  he  liked  her  immensely  for  the  self-re 
liant  sarcasm  in  her  voice.  "But  you  are  real. 
Certainly  there's  no  way  I  could  ever  pay  you  back. 
If  ever  there  could  be,  I'd  do  about  anything  to 
prove  to  you  what  a  real  sport  you  were,  and  you'd 
learn  by  just  calling  up  Audubon  41476  where  they 
always  know  in  a  general  way  where  Ethel  Pearson, 
which  is  my  real  name,  is.  Lord  knows,  I'd  like 
to  pay  you  back,  but  I  guess  I  couldn't  do  it  any 
better  than  hoping  you'll  never  need  anybody's 
help.  So  long!  .  .  .  Driver,  take  me  to  West 
End  and  logth  Street." 

As  the  cab  drove  off  and  he  turned  to  call  an 
other,  the  name  Ethel  Pearson — Audubon  41476 — 
41476 — Ethel  Pearson — repeated  itself  in  his  mind 

107 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

even  as  he  confronted  the  inconvenient  truth  that 
by  now  he  should  have  been  near  Philadelphia  en 
route  to  Washington .  ' '  Audubon — 4 1 476 ' ' 

It  was  in  this  way  that  Cooper  Comlough  extri 
cated  the  snake — as  he  recalled  her,  the  insinuating 
serpentine  smoothness  of  her,  the  ready  dart  of 
her  satiric  fang  in  that  hit  about  the  "upper 
classes,"  the  beryl-green  glitter  of  her  eyes.  He 
actually  thought  of  her  as  something  humanly 
reptilian;  and  strangely,  it  was  not  uncomplimen 
tary.  Yes,  he  extricated  the  snake  from  momen 
tary  grief. 

And  the  snake  in  gratitude  wished  him  continu 
ous  good  fortune,  but  assured  him  that  should 
he  ever  be  in  trouble  she  would  do  what  she  could 
to  help  him  out  of  it. 


108 


CHAPTER  VII 

' '  LIFE  runs  in  three ! " 

From  somewhere  the  phrase  came  to  Comlough 
as  in  review  he  recollected  the  remotely  parallel 
situations  of  Lynn,  Glenn,  and  the  Pearson  woman. 
Curious  concentration  of  opportunity  to  indulge  in 
Samaritanism  three  times  over  in  less  than  two 
weeks.  A  man  might  go  on  living  an  addi 
tional  allotment  of  life  and  never  be  confronted 
with  such  a  succession  of  demands  upon  his  simple 
brotherliness. 

Ochia  having  undoubtedly  returned  home  from 
the  station  by  now,  he  was  on  the  way  back  there, 
too.  He  would  telephone  some  telegrams  to 
Washington  announcing  his  later  arrival  in  the 
Capital — and  that  was  all  for  that. 

The  downstairs  lights  were  burning  brilliantly 
when  he  drew  up  to  his  house.  It  struck  him  as 
peculiar.  It  was  after  two  o'clock.  He  paid  the 
taxi-driver  and  hurried  up  the  steps.  Before  he 
got  his  keys  out  the  door  opened  and  Ralston,  his 

109 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

butler,  stood  there,  his  usually  marmoreal  counte 
nance  a  conflicting  canvas  of  excitement,  bewilder 
ment  and  relief  at  sight  of  Comlough. 

' '  Oh,  sir — I — I  am  so  glad  you  are  still — that  you 
came,  sir!  I  didn't  know  but — understand  but 
what  you  were  hurt,  sir — I  should  have  called  for 
the  police,  sir,  in  another  ten  minutes — and  you 
have  not  the  bag,  sir — I " 

"Man  alive!  what  is  the  matter?"  demanded 
Comlough.  In  the  hall  a  cluster  of  servants  were 
surrounding  a  scared-looking  Jap  boy  who  was 
gazing  full  of  fear  at  him. 

"Why,  sir — !"  exclaimed  Ralston,  "I — we 
thought  something  had  happened  to  you,  too,  sir — 
because — sir — the  bag — it  was  stolen  from  Ochia, 
sir!" 

"What!" 

"Ye-es,  sir — quite  so,  sir!" 

Comlough  stood  dumfounded,  staring  from  the 
butler  to  the  Japanese. 

"Sir — Mist'  Comlough — I  remain  in  station  in 
waiting  and  long  waiting — when  you  come  not 
bime-by  I  go  to  the  telephone  and  to  speak  to  Mist' 
Ralston.  For  one  second  only  I  leave  the  bag  out 
of  the  hand  to  give  to  the  ticket  man  the  quar- 

no 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ter  for  change  and  I  look  down — and  the  bag  is 
away!" 

There  was  no  doubting  Ochia's  story,  nor  his 
sincere  panic,  nor  his  bottomless  remorse.  In  five 
years  he  had  never  failed  Comlough  in  the  slightest 
particular.  Comlough  looked  at  him  intently  for 
a  moment,  probing  him  with  a  gaze  which  the 
Japanese  met  with  a  beseeching  mortification — 
an  infinite  abasement  that  hurt  Comlough. 

"That's  all  right,  Ochia,"  he  said  quietly. 
"Ralston,  put  out  some  of  these  lights,  send  the 
others  to  bed,  and  then  come  to  the  study.  Ochia, 
come  with  me." 

He  led  the  way  to  his  study,  followed  by  the 
heavy-hearted  Japanese. 

A  deep  foreboding  of  disaster  filled  Comlough. 
The  bag!  It  contained  confidential  correspond 
ence  with  Hargreave,  Clewes,  Hamilton,  Prime, 
and  others  of  the  Atlantic  Distribution  Company, 
Shipping  Board,  and  Fuel  Administration;  with 
Colonel  Maurice  and  with  Sidonio  Godoz,  Marso 
Molina,  Emilio  del  Corral,  and  other  influential 
South  Americans,  in  regard  to  the  Maracaibo 
operations,  concessions,  etc.  Dozens  of  phases  of 
United  Americas  Petroleum  operations  were  repre- 

iii 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

sented  by  confidential  data  in  that  bag.  The 
addenda  on  the  Mexican  situation  alone — against 
the  proposed  nationalization  of  the  big  wells  from 
Tehuantepec  all  the  way  up,  by  Carranza.  Speci 
fications  of  a  new  type  of  tanker  and  tank  cars; 
notes  on  a  secret  system  almost  perfected,  which  he 
believed  to  be  superior  to  the  Rossard,  for  extract 
ing  gasoline  from  low  grade  oils ;  a  report  upon  the 
Morton  Process,  a  combination  of  tubes  and  stills 
to  make  whatever  gravity  and  endpoint  of  gasoline 
might  be  required  and  at  the  same  time  produce 
kerosene  distillate,  gas  oil  and  heavy  fuel  oil, 
obtaining  ten  per  cent,  more  gasoline  and  naphtha 
than  by  any  other  process.  But  principally,  the 
bag  contained  the  outline  of  all  his  struggle  to  gain 
absolute  control  of  the  Llano  Estacado — in  that 
bag  was  the  stark,  undisguised  reasons  for  all  his 
attacks  on  Utopian  Oil  and  Texan  Improvement — 
the  very  gist  of  all  his  planning,  all  his  labors,  all 
his  hopes  and  his  future  and  even  his  honor — his 
obligations  to  his  associations. 
The  bag  was  lost — stolen ! 


112 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WITH  iron  self-collection  Comlough  quietly 
directed  Ochia  to  sit  opposite  him  and  questioned 
him. 

The  facts  were  disastrously  simple.  Timmins, 
Lynn's  butler,  had  telephoned  Comlough's  message 
to  Ralston,  who  had  told  the  Japanese  to  carry  the 
bag  to  the  station.  Ochia  was  at  the  gate  of  track 
eleven,  the  Washington  12:15  express,  at  a  quarter 
of  eleven.  People  were  already  going  in  to  the 
train.  Eleven  o'clock  came;  eleven- thirty;  twelve 
o'clock;  twelve-fifteen.  He  did  not  know  what  to 
do.  The  train  went  off;  still  no  Mr.  Comlough. 
He  waited  until  twelve-thirty;  then  he  went  to  the 
telephone  booths.  His  smallest  coin  was  a  quarter 
and  he  crossed  to  one  of  the  ticket  cages  to  get  it 
changed.  For  that  moment  he  had  set  the  bag 
down  at  his  feet. 

As  far  as  he  remembered  in  his  present  confusion, 
no  one  else  came  to  the  wicket;  no  one  was  near 
him.  He  received  his  change ;  put  two  dimes  back 
8  113 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

in  his  pocket,  holding  the  nickel  out,  and  bent  down 
to  pick  up  the  bag — and  it  wasn't  there! 

Comlough  took  a  memorandum  out  of  his  desk, 
listing  the  papers  which  had  been  in  the  bag.  He 
did  not  need  the  list.  He  remembered  each  separ 
ate  lost  paper  vividly  enough.  But  the  list  gave 
him  something  to  look  out  on,  and  steady  his  mind 
by  getting  it  off  the  results  of  the  loss.  He  looked 
up  from  the  paper  finally,  forcing  all  his  faculties 
into  a  cool  attentiveness  on  means  of  finding  the 
bag,  or,  failing  that,  of  counteracting  the  effective 
use  of  its  contents  by  others. 

There  were  two  possible  explanations  of  its 
theft.  First,  a  common  sneak-thief,  noting  the 
unassuming  but  undeniable  richness  of  it  would 
have  been  led  to  believe  that  its  contents  were  at 
least  in  accordance  with  its  exterior,  and,  watching 
his  opportunity,  had  "lifted"  it.  Somewhat  dar 
ing — but  the  proof  of  the  possiblity  was  that  the 
bag  had  been  stolen  right  from  the  feet  of  Ochia. 

The  other  possibility  was  the  graver  one  that 
persons  who  had  something  to  gain  by  getting 
possession  of  United  Americas  Petroleum  plans, 
or  who  were  interested  in  the  direction  of  Com 
lough 's  future  public  reports,  learning  of  his  in- 

114 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

tended  Washington  trip,  had  taken  a  desperate 
chance  that  the  bag  might  contain  valuable  in 
formation,  and  stolen  it.  Desperate,  indeed — but 
again,  the  proof  of  the  possibility  was  the  fact  that 
the  bag  had  been  stolen  literally  from  under  Ochia's. 
feet.  As  to  who  would  know  of  the  bag's  contents, 
he  was  the  cynosure  of  all  oilmen  and  oil  specula 
tors'  eyes,  and  there  being  other  companies  who 
could  expect  an  attack  from  him  in  the  press,  as. 
he  had  attacked  Utopian  Oil  and  Texan  Improve 
ment,  there  would  be  men  who,  fearing  him,  would 
have  reached  the  stage  in  their  nervous  precau 
tionary  scheming  of  being  able  to  identify  Ochia 
and  the  bag  with  the  "C.  C."  monogram.  Or  men 
hating  him — Aleck  Bonsell?  Mangin? 

But  who  would  have  expected  him  to  miss  the 
train,  and  that  Ochia  would  set  the  bag  down  in 
order  to  get  a  quarter  changed?  Certainly  not  a. 
common  sneak-thief.  But  would  not  anyone  going 
after,  or  sent  after  it,  planning  perhaps  to  steal  it. 
on  the  train,  stick  near  it  until  positive  that  it  was. 
going  on  the  train,  and  seeing  that  it  wasn't, 
accept  the  first,  if  flimsiest,  opportunity  of  pilfer 
ing  it?  And  be  prepared  instantly  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  that  opportunity,  full  of  risk  as  it  was?1 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

At  best — or  worst — even  the  garden  variety  of 
sneak-thief  would  see  that  the  papers  were  valuable 
and  understand  that  particular  persons  might  be 
eager  to  pay  heavily  for  them. 

The  more  he  considered  the  importance  of  the 
papers — and  their  importance  lost  nothing  in  his 
continued  examination  of  it — the  more  he  realized 
what  it  would  mean  for  anyone — say,  for  Bonsell 
or  Mangin — in  the  oil-stock  game  to  get  hold  of 
that  confidential  information.  What  it  would 
mean  in  dollars  and  cents !  His  hold  on  the  Esta- 
cado  was  dependent  upon  keeping  the  bag  from 
men  who  could  block  his  plans  if  they  got  posses 
sion  of  it.  More  important  at  present  to  him  than 
the  granite  financial  stability  of  United  Americas 
Petroleum  in  its  old  state,  was  his  dream  of  ex 
tending  it  and  organizing  the  output  of  the  largest 
oil  resources  in  the  world.  That  dream  would  be  a 
bubble  with  that  iridescent  trifle's  duration  if  the 
contents  of  the  bag  were  passed  round  before  he  got 
Kilcairn's  block  of  Utopian  or  bought  in  the  ma 
jority  holding  of  Texan  Improvement.  At  best 
it  meant,  if  ever  anything  was  to  be  done  in  the 
Estacado,  that  his  method  of  going  about  it  had 
failed  in  the  first  and  simplest  stage ;  that  he  would 

116 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

step  down  from  the  driver's  seat;  that  someone 
else — Colonel  Maurice  or  someone  Maurice  se 
lected — would  step  up  to  it.  He  saw  with  painful 
clarity  that  what  the  bag  contained  was  not  papers 
of  value  but  the  invaluable  confidence  of  a  group 
of  powerful  men  who  would  be  affected  as  much  by 
his  loss  as  he  himself. 

Back  and  forth  his  thoughts  sawed  themselves 
into  a  controlled  groove.  He  wasted  time  and 
energy  neither  in  mourning,  hopeful  illusions  nor 
in  reproaching  himself  for  having  packed  the 
papers  in  the  bag  in  the  first  instance,  and  in 
entrusting  it  to  Ochia  in  the  second.  He  had  done 
the  same  thing  hundreds  of  times  before ;  told  him 
self  savagely  that  he  would  again.  He  spurred  his 
mental  shoulders  to  the  problem.  There  tightened 
in  him  that  tenacious,  fanatical  will  to  fight  on 
for  his  plans ;  the  theological  stubbornness  to  hold 
dogmatically  to  the  course  he  had  determined 
upon,  which  was  characteristic  of  him. 

First,  whatever  assistance  the  police  could  give 
him  must  be  enlisted,  without  scattering  news  of 
his  loss  broadcast.  Ochia,  of  course,  had  already 
notified  the  station  officials.  He  had  no  qualm  of 
uneasiness  in  turning  to  the  police  for  help  as  the 

117 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

aftermath  to  the  thoroughgoing  manner  in  which 
he  had  exposed  the  venality  of  one  member  of  the 
force  in  the  Night  Court.  Comlough  knew  that, 
sanely  and  soberly  regarded,  the  rank  and  file  of 
the  police  force  were  hard-working,  often  keen- 
thinking,  courageous,  earnest  men — men  kindly  in 
the  main,  who  had  chosen  the  work  because  some 
thing  husky  in  their  nature  was  appealed  to  by  the 
hardiness  of  the  duties.  The  police  honor-medal 
men — the  Graces  and  McGoverns  and  Fitzgeralds 
— represented  the  force  more  fairly  than  the  types 
he  had  been  thrown  into  dramatic  conflict  with  in 
the  Bowery  saloon  and  along  Broadway. 

He  got  Inspector  Snell  of  the  Center  Street 
bureau  on  the  telephone,  and  a  few  minutes  later 
sent  Ralston  and  Ochia  to  the  Twenty-third  Pre 
cinct  to  meet  a  Central  office  man.  When  they 
left  he  sat  for  fifteen  minutes  thinking  deeply. 

Hargreave  and  Colonel  Maurice — should  he  in 
form  them  at  once?  He  picked  up  the  telephone 
again  to  call  the  former  from  his  bed;  but  the 
number  he  called  was  not  Hargreave's.  He  could 
not  leave  New  York  until  the  bag  was  found.  But 
if  the  papers  were  being  conned  over  in  inimical 
quarters  he  had  to  get  in  touch  with  Washington 

118 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

more  promptly  than  ever.  It  was  a  case  of  recon 
ciling  opposites;  eliminating  the  paradox  of  dis 
tance.  Krull,  Lommax,  Morrissey,  Worthington, 
McDill — these  he  felt  reasonably  certain  he  could 
call  from  Washington  himself;  they  would  bring 
Walpole,  too.  But  DePinna  was  a  ticklish  Vene 
zuelan,  and  Godoz,  Molina,  and  del  Corral  were 
super-erratic  Colombians.  The  number  he  called 
was  Stover's.  He  had  him  roused  out  of  bed. 

"Deems — come  down  to  my  place  at  once.  I 
need  you — bad!  Will  you  come?" 

"Coming!"  The  click  of  the  receiver  sharply 
hung  up  put  an  exclamation  point  on  Stover's 
response.  He  decided  to  wait  before  calling  Har- 
greave  and  Maurice,  calling  Updike  and  Aiken 
instead. 

A  famous  publicist  recently  writing  in  a  well- 
known  liberal-radical  periodical,  termed  the  Llano 
Estacado  development  of  the  United  Americas 
Petroleum  Consolidated,  "our  first  bulwark 
against  Bolshevism."  Few  know  the  story  of  the 
days  when  the  fate  of  the  great  organization  hung 
upon  the  theft  of  a  little  black  bag.  Least  of  all 
is  known  the  part  which  Deems  Stover  has  had  in 
the  unwritten  history  of  the  oil  company.  He 

119 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

appeared  shortly  before  four  o'clock,  fresh  and 
alert  as  though  it  were  midday.  He  wore  his  cus 
tomary  enthusiastic  demeanor  of  being  old  friends 
with  each  of  the  twenty-four  hours  of  the  so-called 
day,  which  neither  the  unexpected  woes  nor  vaga 
ries  of  mankind  had  power  to  dispel.  While  Com- 
lough  told  him  what  had  happened,  he  toyed  with 
a  ball  of  crumpled  paper — he  never  smoked. 

"Whom  did  Snell  send  up  to  the  Twenty- third ? " 
was  all  he  said  when  Comlough  finished. 

" Couldn't  teU  you." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  Snell  on  the  wire. 
4 '  Chief,  this  is  Stover  speaking.  Send  Kirkman  up 
on  the  Comlough  case,  will  you? — Yes. — Right 
away. — How?  Get  him  out  then — right  away! 
And,  please — this  is  air-tight,  you  understand. 
All  right.  Thanks  a  lot!" 

He  hung  the  receiver  up  and  turned  to  Com 
lough. 

' '  If  it's  kicking  anywhere  within  kicking  distance 
of  the  station,  or  just  some  ordinary  crook's  taken 
it,  Kirkman  will  get  it  back.  Now,  let's  go  on. — 
What  is  the  particular  thing  you  got  me  down  here 
for?" 

"To  bring  Washington  to  New  York." 

120 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"At  current  freight  rates?" 

"Airplane  rates,  if  necessary."  Comlough 
threw  the  letter  Stover  had  given  him  to  DePinna 
on  the  table.  ' '  I  want  the  addressee  of  that  to  col 
lect  it  in  person."  He  leaned  across  the  table, 
speaking  rapidly,  with  a  tenseness  seldom  in  his 
speech.  "Deems,  I  want  you  to  get  DePinna, 
Molina,  and  if  at  all  possible,  Emilio  del  Corral 
and  Sidonio  Godoz  up  here — to-day — this  after 
noon.  You  know  how  to  get  at  Morrissey,  Krull, 
Lommax,  Worthington,  McDill,  and  Walpole 
better  than  I  do,  probably,  on  a  quick  call.  Get 
them  up  here  for  me.  In  ninety-nine  years  out  of  a 
hundred  anything  that  has  big  money  in  it  can  be 
swung  from  New  York  better  than  from  any  other 
place  in  the  world.  This  was  the  hundredth  year 
for  me,  and  Washington  has  the  call.  I  can't  go 
there.  Still  less  can  I  let  whoever  has  my  papers 
get  to  work  in  Washington  with  them  while  I'm 
here.  You've  got  to  bring  Washington  to  New 
York  for  me." 

For  several  minutes  Stover  kept  his  gaze  on  the 
crumpled  paper,  slowly  revolving  it  in  his  fingers. 

"Cooper,"  he  said  at  last;  "you're  one  of  the 
people  I  believe  in.  I'm  called  a  good  judge  of 

121 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

people,  too.  I  want  to  ask  you  only  one  thing." 
He  looked  steadily  at  Comlough.  "This  oil  pro 
ject  of  yours,  is  it  a  square  proposition — in  every 
way?  Don't  be  irritated  at  the  question.  Is  it — 
in  every  way?" 

Comlough  regarded  him  wonderingly.  "It  is. 
As  square  a  dream  as  a  man  ever  dreamed,  Deems." 

"It's  communistic,  you  said.  Now,  I  know 
you're  not  a  red  shirt.  What  you  mean  by  com 
munistic  is  that  it's  elastic — can  stretch  with  the 
times,  and  will  not  be  a  peg  to  tack  down  what  our 
left-wing  friends  call  the  capitalistic  privileges?" 

"It  hasn't  been  endorsed  by  Lenin  and  Trotsky, 
but  despite  that  it  has  taken  the  man  in  the  streets 
into  consideration — and  into  partnership  to  an 
extent  that's  fairer  than  anything  which  has  been 
tried.  So  fair,  that  if  he  goes  on  a  sabotage  ram 
page  he  will  cut  off  his  own  head." 

Stover  hesitated  a  moment,  and  gestured  toward 
Comlough  with  a  short  laugh.  "You  know,  poli 
tics  is  a  curious  game.  According  to  mythology 
it's  always  crooked.  Well,  according  to  my  par 
ticular  lights,  I've  beaten  that  legend.  I've  never 
let  myself  in  for  a  shady  deal.  I've  never  been  the 
callboy  for  special  occasions,  special  circumstances, 

122 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

special  parties,  or  special  interests  in  anything  off 
color.    My  record  has  a  number  of  people  puzzled 
because  it  is  open,  and  people  that  want  to  get 
something  on  you  have  the  devil's  own  time  believ 
ing  anything  that  isn't  damning."    He  broke  off 
with  a  shrug,  and  smiled  whimsically  at  Comlough. 
"Just  as  you  look  ahead  and  realize  that  old  busi 
ness  ways  are  hitting  the  toboggan,  I  see  as  much 
in  politics.    It  isn't  merely  a  question  of  not  letting 
anybody  get  anything  on  me — there's  some  of 
that  in  it,  to  be  sure;  my  usefulness  depends  on 
avoiding  that — it's  because — at  least,  I  hope  so — 
I  have  some  sort  of  principle  about  what  influence 
I  can  swing  in  the  political  affairs  of  lots  of  Ameri 
cans.    I  have  to  use  a  number  of  things  which  have 
come  to  my  hand  and  in  which  I  do  not  particularly 
believe ;  but  which  I  cannot  do  without  altogether, 
either.    Things  like  that  Longacre  Political  Asso 
ciation,  for  example,  and  the  crowd  in  it.    Certain 
types  of  ward  heelers  and  district  bosses  and 
county  and  local  chairmen  of  peculiar  complexion 
— and  odor.    I  don't  use  them  in  the  spirit  of  com 
promise  with  my  own  ideas;  I  use  them  because 
there's  work  I've  got  to  do  and  hysterics." 
He  drew  the  telephone  to  him. 
123 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"This  puzzles  you  a  bit  as  to  how  it  fits  in  with 
your  immediate  needs.  It  does.  You  see,  I  can 
give  a  man  any  number  of  letters  to  any  number 
of  individuals  occupying  ringside  seats  in  Congress 
and  legations.  I'm  always  shooting  letters  round. 
Not  letters  just  like  those  I  gave  you,  of  course — 
but  even  that  left  me  free  from  responsibility  in 
whatever  project  you're  pushing.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  I  ring  up  Washington,  as  I'm  going  to 
do  now,  and  ask  several  gentlemen  from  Texas  and 
Latin  America  and  elsewhere  to  come  to  New  York 
to  talk  over  matters  pertaining  to  the  glory  and 
industrial  advancement  of  their  several  communi 
ties,  incidentally,  and  to  the  glory  and  industrial 
advancement  of  Cooper  Comlough  and  United 
Americas  Petroleum — and  mankind,  as  you  tell 
me — mainly,  I  want  to  be  sure  of  the  mankind, 
Cooper,  because  I  am  in  reality  endorsing  your 
schemes.  I  want  to  make  sure  that  I'm  safe  in 
doing  so.  Anyhow," — he  laughed,  as  he  lifted  the 
receiver, — "Tillinghast  told  me  just  day  before 
yesterday,  that  the  slipperiest  stuff  in  the  world 
wasn't  mercury  or  banana  peels  or  ice  on  the  front 
doorsteps,  but  petroleum,  and  that  a  man  hadn't 
ought  to  trust  his  mother  on  anything  connected 

124 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

with  in  oil  gusher,  either  in  the  well  form  or  the 
human  form.  However,  I'm  discarding  his  excel 
lent  advice  and  taking  a  chance  on  you,  old  man ! 
Here  goes!" 

It  was  half -past  five  before  he  got  his  Washing 
ton  connection.  He  gave  instructions  to  someone 
named  Teath  to  deliver  a  message  to  Will  Boies, 
whom  Comlough  knew  slightly.  The  purport  of  it 
was  that  Senators  Morrissey  and  Worthington,  and 
Representatives  Krull,  Lommax,  and  McDill  were 
to  be  impressed  with  the  urgency  of  taking  the 
eight  o'clock  express  out  of  Washington  for  a  con 
ference  in  New  York  on  a  matter  of  vital  impor 
tance. 

McDill  was  to  bring  Rafael  DePinna  of  the 
Venezuelan  Legation,  and  Worthington,  Major 
Josiah  L.  Walpole,  who  was  at  the  Willard.  Boies 
was  instantly  to  get  in  touch  with  Arthur  Godfrey 
of  the  Pan-American  Union,  and  with  D.  H.  Angus, 
chairman  of  the  board  of  directors  of  the  North 
and  South  American  International  Export  Alliance, 
who  was  also  at  the  Willard. 

In  brief,  the  reorganization  of  United  Americas 
Petroleum  in  a  manner  closely  affecting  the  Re 
public  of  Colombia  made  imperative  an  im- 

125 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

mediate  interview  with  Marso  Molina  and  Emilio 
del  Corral,  of  the  Colombian  Legation,  and  their 
friend,  the  great  landowner,  Sidonio  Godoz.  A 
day  late  would  be  too  late.  Godfrey  and  Angus 
could  persuade  the  South  Americans  to  come  to 
New  York,  if  anybody  could.  Boies  was  to  call 
Stover  at  Bryant  48,000  as  soon  as  they  departed. 
He  gave  the  hours  he  could  be  reached  there  dur 
ing  the  day.  When  the  parties  arrived  in  New 
York  they  were  to  repair  at  once  to  the  offices  of 
United  Americas  Petroleum,  where  the  president 
of  the  company,  Mr.  Cooper  Comlough,  would  be 
awaiting  them. 

Stover  rose.  "Boies  can  drum  them  together, 
if  it's  possible;  but  you  will  grant,  man,  to  rouse 
the  District  of  Columbia  at  six  in  the  morning  with 
instructions  to  make  an  eight  o'clock  train  is  allow 
ing  no  elbow  room  for  contingencies." 

"I've  made  trains  with  far  less  leeway." 

4 '  But  you  are  not  a  congressman,  Cooper ;  nor  a 
South  American.  I'm  going  to  stop  in  at  the 
Twenty-third  Precinct  on  my  way  back  now  to  see 
what  has  developed.  I  want  to  keep  in  touch  with 
you.  You'll  go  down  to  your  office  about  when  ? " 

"Be  there  at  ten.  Updike  and  Aiken  will  be 
126 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

there  at  eight.  I'll  have  my  secretary,  Wallace, 
on  the  wire  every  half  hour.  You  can  relay  any 
news  to  me  through  him." 

As  they  parted  in  the  hall  Stover  turned  to  Com- 
lough  as  though  he  had  suddenly  recollected 
something. 

"By  the  way,  Cooper — you  came  to  the  club 
directly  from  Lynn's,  didn't  you?  About  what 
time  did  you  leave  him?" 

"Ten-fifteen.  He  walked  down  Fifth  Avenue 
with  me  about  six  blocks.  There's  a  clock  there 
at  Sixtieth — just  above  the  Netherland.  It  said 
ten-fifteen  as  I  got  my  taxi." 

"Lynn's  not  associated  with  anybody  in  the 
speculating  game — somebody  he  might  have  run 
into  after  you  left  him — all  things  are  possible, 
you  know — liable  to  meet  anybody  any  time  in  this 
town — someone  he  might  have  given  an  inadvert 
ent  tip,  just  in  the  course  of  conversation  about 
you — he  having  just  left  you — you  know  how  talk 
centers  round  the  immediately  departed,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing — just  somebody,  you 
know ?" 

Comlough  had  given  an  involuntary  start  at 
Stover's  mention  of  Lynn  in  connection  with 

127 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

speculation,  unobserved  by  the  other,  who  was 
busy  at  opening  the  door  himself.  Not  even  to 
Stover  would  he  have  dreamed  of  speaking  of 
Lynn's  peculations — besides,  they  had  nothing  to 
do  with  the  matter  in  hand. 

"N-o,"  he  replied;  something  in  Stover's  tone 
puzzling  him.  ' '  Nobody  at  all. " 

Stover  stood  silent  for  a  moment  in  the  open 
doorway,  and  seemed  to  ponder  over  something. 

"Well — so  long,  then — see  you  later!"  he  said 
abruptly,  gripped  Comlough's  hand  and  hurried 
away. 


128 


CHAPTER  IX 

COMLOUGH  bathed  and  changed,  with  the  grim 
satisfaction  of  feeling  that,  bad  mess  though  things 
were  in,  he  was  at  least  trending  to  a  reorganization 
of  ways  and  means.  He  had  still  no  inkling  of 
what  was  in  store  for  him.  At  seven  o'clock  two 
telegrams  were  delivered  at  opposite  sides  of 
North  America.  One  was  addressed  to  Richard 
Porter  in  Vancouver.  It  read : 

Your  sale  of  Long  Horn  and  Lone  Star  to  Texcol 
Corporation  premature.  Could  have  got  better  price. 
Will  dispose  of  your  other  holdings  Texan  Central  as 
requested. 

WALPOLE. 

The  other  telegram  was  delivered  in  Washington, 
D.  C.,  and  offered  Sidonio  Godoz  four  hundred 
thousand  dollars  for  an  option  on  a  certain  Mag- 
dalena  River  property,  provided  certain  conces 
sions  regarding  other  oil  lands  in  Colombia  could  be 
effected.  The  telegram  was  signed  "Texcol  Oil 
and  Asphalt  Corporation,  W.  R.  R.  Yerger,  presi- 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

dent."  It  brought  Senor  Godoz  who,  despite  his 
extensive  clutch  on  a  vast  section  of  his  native 
land  was  in  need  of  a  prompt  sum  of  cash,  more 
quickly  than  quick  into  the  presence  of  Senors 
Molino  and  del  Corral  to  effect  the  specified  con 
cessions  for  Texcol  Oil  and  Asphalt. 

At  eight-thirty  o'clock  a  small,  cool  man,  with  a 
habitually  governed  gaze,  closed  with  Rafael  De 
Pinna  a  satisfactory  arrangement  concerning  the 
Maracaibo  Lake  Basin  concessions  which  Com- 
lough  had  been  after. 

Before  Comlough  left  his  house  he  called  Lynn's 
home.  Things  would  have  to  move  fast  that  morn 
ing.  He  wanted  both  enough  additional  Utopian 
to  give  him  control,  and  control  of  Texan  Improve 
ment — at  any  price. 

Marcia  answered  the  telephone  without  even 
the  intercession  of  Timmins. 

"Why,  Cooper,  where  are  you  calling  from?" 

"My  home." 

"I  thought  you  were  in  Washington!" 

"I  missed  the  train." 

"That  explains  why  you  kept  Evans  out  so 
late.  I  thought  you  had  taken  him  with  you." 

"Why,  Ev " 

130 


"Now,  no  excuses!"  Marcia  interrupted* 
"Evans  left  for  the  bank  more  than  an  hour  ago,'* 
she  said  in  answer  to  his  next  words,  a  request  to 
speak  to  Lynn .  ' '  You  know, ' '  she  went  on ,  "I  am 
taking  the  children  out  to  Hempstead  to-day,  so  I 
don't  suppose  I  shall  see  you  for  a  while.  But  you 
will  come  out,  won't  you,  Cooper  ?  Please  promise ! ' * 

It  was  exactly  a  quarter  to  nine  by  his  watch 
when  he  hung  up  the  receiver.  Why  Lynn  should 
have  gone  to  the  bank  at  a  quarter  to  eight  irra 
tionally  bothered  him  for  a  moment;  then  the 
thought  passed.  It  was  replaced  by  a  peculiar 
uneasiness,  not  connected  with  the  bag  or  his  own 
affairs,  aroused  solely  by  something  like  a  hint  of 
hurt  in  Marcia's  voice.  Why  should  that  be  there? 
He  hardly  knew  what  gave  him  the  impression  that 
it  was  there.  She  sounded  cheerful  enough.  But 
his  impression  continued. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  house,  Ralston  returned. 
The  detective  Kirkman,  and  the  man  Snell  had 
originally  dispatched  to  the  Twenty-third  Precinct, 
were  now  making  a  canvas  of  hotels  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  station  in  company  with  Ochia,  to  discover 
whether  anyone  bearing  a  bag  similar  to  Com- 
lough's  had  come  in  during  the  nightu 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

He  hurried  to  his  office.  The  immediate  matter 
to  be  attended  to  after  terse  consultations  with 
Updike  and  Aiken,  and  instructions  to  his  secre 
tary,  was  to  get  that  grip  on  Utopian  and  Texan 
Improvement.  Kilcairn  and  his  block  of  Utopian 
must  be  located  without  a  moment's  loss.  He 
sent  off  four  telegrams  to  Texas  on  Kilcairn.  Lynn 
had  already  been  in  his  office  and  cashed  the  order 
he  had  given  him  on  Hannemann  the  night  before 
for  fifty  thousand  dollars  for  Texan  Improvement 
stock.  He  called  up  the  Clinton  Loan  and  Trust, 
but  Lynn  was  not  in  the  bank.  His  first  actual 
shock  came  when  he  called  up  Medill  and  Spear, 
the  brokers  who  were  acting  for  him  through 
Lynn. 

"Why,  hello,  Mr.  Comlough,  I  thought  you  were 
in  Washington!"  Medill  greeted  him  over  the 
wire.  "Mr.  Lynn  was  just  here  and  said  you  left 
last  night.  We've  struck  a  jam  on  that  Prairie 
Extension,  Mr.  Comlough!"  Prairie  Extension 
was  the  telephone  code  phrase  for  Texan  Improve 
ment.  Comlough 's  blood  grew  cold  at  Medill's 
words.  The  broker  talked  on.  "Mr.  Lynn  came 
here  with  the  draft  to  buy  the  Extension  we  were 
offered  yesterday.  This  morning  not  a  particle  of 

132 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

it  is  for  sale.  Do  you  know  what  happened?  It's 
amazing!  Our  stock-breeding  interests — you 
know — materialized!  Actually!  They  have  sold 
out  the  Prairie  Extension  to  large  cattle  interests 
at  nine  o'clock  this  morning!  Mr.  Lynn  nearly 
collapsed  when  we  discovered  it." 

Comlough  felt  like  a  man  chained  to  a  stake, 
looking  up  at  the  overhanging  lip  of  an  avalanche 
held  back  for  a  second  before  it  uproots  the  last 
obstacle.  Deliberately  forcing  himself  into  a  calm 
which  was  stark  grimness,  he  took  out  a  box  of 
cigars,  painstakingly  selected  a  beautifully  made 
cigar,  clipped  its  point  neatly,  and  slowly  puffed  it 
aglow.  He  rang  for  Wallace. 

"Get  me  a  report  on  the  cattle-breeding  people 
who  have  just  bought  up  the  Canassus,"  he 
directed  quietly. 

By  eleven  o'clock  he  had  the  report.  Cattle- 
breeding  interests  had  bought  in  Texan  Improve 
ment — cattle-breeding  interests ! — blue  deep-sea 
eagles!  The  Texan  Improvement  and  Petroleum 
Corporation  had  been  bought  up  by  one  Texcol 
Oil  and  Asphalt  Corporation!  An  obscure  con 
cern  about  a  year  old.  By  all  that  was  fantastic 
what  had  this  diminutive  organization,  whose 

133 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

capitalization  was  less  than  half  a  million  dollars, 
wanted  with  the  Estacado  ? 

"Get  me  a  complete  report  on  Texcol  Oil  and 
Asphalt,"  he  ordered. 

He  called  up  Lynn  at  the  bank.  His  line  was 
busy.  He  hurried  over  to  Hargreave's  office. 
Wallace  had  already  informed  him,  as  well  as 
Colonel  Maurice,  of  the  loss  of  the  bag,  and  Com- 
lough  found  them  closeted  together.  He  thought 
he  perceived  coolness  in  their  manner  toward  him ; 
but  he  had  no  patience  for  sensitiveness  in  himself 
now,  nor  was  he  in  any  mood  for  explanations  of 
his  failure  to  make  his  train,  his  reasons  for  putting 
the  papers  in  the  bag  or  entrusting  bag  and  papers 
to  Ochia.  Maurice,  cold  always,  despite  his  conver 
sational  expansiveness ;  cynical  often,  an  instinct 
for  intrigue  in  him,  despite  his  vociferous  advocacy 
of  direct  action,  eyed  Comlough  scrutinizingly.  He 
laid  a  telegram  from  Washington  before  him : 

Long  Horn  and  Lone  Star  railroad  sold  Texcol  Cor 
poration  by  Porter  on  twelfth.  WALPOLE. 

And  another . 

Impossible  to  come  New  York  to-day.  Texcol  Cor 
poration  taken  over  Magdalena  lease. 

SIDONIO  GODOZ. 

134 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

And  a  third: 

Will  be  in  New  York  on  sixteenth.  Maracaibo  Lake 
Basin  property  disposed  of  to  Texcol  Oil  and  Asphalt 

Corporation.  -P,  T»  T» 

RAFAEL  DEPINNA. 

He  had  no  chance  to  comment  on  this  wicked, 
triple  bludgeoning  of  his  plans.  He  was  wanted 
on  the  telephone.  Wallace  was  calling. 

"Mr.  Comlough — the  bag  has  been  found!" 
After  what  he  had  just  read  his  elation  was 
formal — and  momentary.  The  bag  had  been 
found — emptied  of  the  papers.  Shortly  after  mid 
night  a  man  had  registered  at  the  Fesole  Hotel, 
in  West  Forty-seventh  Street.  The  night-clerk 
was  still  on  duty  when  the  detectives  and  Ochia 
arrived.  He  vaguely  recalled  someone  registering 
— having  the  kind  of  bag  they  described.  The 
name  was — there  it  was,  written — Carlos  Cardoza. 
Man  spoke  with  soft  foreign  accent.  Tall — dark, 
as  he  remembered.  Didn't  take  particular  notice 
of  him.  Yes — wore  a  light  suit.  Light  brown,  with 
darker  brown  striping.  Room  435.  They  went  up. 
The  man  was  gone;  the  bag,  with  Comlough's  "C. 
C."  monogram  on  it,  there  in  his  room.  Contents 
gone  over,  but  nothing  except  the  papers  taken. 

135 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Anything  else?" 

"Yes.  Mr.  Stover  telephoned  in  that  the 
gentlemen  from  South  America  could  not  be  here 
to-day." 

"Anything  else?" 

"No,  sir." 

He  turned  to  Hargreave  and  Colonel  Maurice. 

"The  bag  has  at  least  been  located,"  he  said, 
and  repeated  what  Wallace  had  told  him. 

"I  will  buy  out  Texcol  as  soon  as  I  locate  this 
Yerger,"  was  Colonel  Maurice's  sole  comment, 
assuming  command. 

Comlough  hurried  to  the  Clinton  Loan  and  Trust 
Company.  The  attendant  took  his  card  in  to 
Lynn,  and  returned  to  inform  him  that  the  vice- 
president  in  charge  of  the  loan  department  was  at 
the  moment  in  conversation  with  another  gentle 
man,  but  would  be  ready  for  him  in  a  very  few 
minutes.  He  was  led  to  Lynn's  office.  Almost  on 
the  threshold  of  it  he  passed  a  little  stout  man,  with 
bulgy  eyeballs  and  ruddy  complexion.  There  was 
a  sort  of  roly-poly  air  about  him.  In  passing  he 
shot  Comlough  a  humorous  shrewd  look. 

"Cooper,  what  shall  we  do  about  Texan  Im 
provement?"  exclaimed  Lynn  the  moment  he 

136 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

entered.  "I  just  heard  you  hadn't  gone.  What's 
happened,  anyhow?" 

Comlough  told  him  of  the  bag.  Lynn,  exqui 
sitely  dressed  as  always,  from  his  dull  black  shoes 
to  the  white  bud  in  the  lapel  of  his  fine  dark  serge 
suit,  leaned  toward  him,  closely  following  each 
word. 

"Man,  that's  hell!  You  got  the  bag,  and  there 
wasn't  a  paper  left  ?  That  sounds  ominous.  What 
sort  of  description  have  they  got  of  the  thief? " 

Comlough  told  him  the  extent  of  that  description. 

' '  Pretty  slim  to  go  on — but  there's  just  a  chance 
of  landing  him  on  it." 

Comlough  shook  his  head  questioningly. 

"But  man  alive — what  to  do?  Can't  I  help  you 
some  way?  I  haven't  forgot  what  you  did  for  me, 
Cooper.  Say  anything." 

Comlough  had  something  for  him  to  do  imme 
diately.  "Get  in  touch  with  Spear  or  Medill, 
Evans,  and  tackle  Bonsell.  I  can't  wait  to  locate 
Kilcairn  now.  In  some  way  get  at  least  six  thou 
sand  shares  from  Bonsell  or  Cann — pay  up  to 
twenty-five  for  them.  But  get  them.  Get  them ! " 

He  questioned  Lynn  briefly  along  lines  suggested 
by  Stover.  Had  Lynn  met  anyone  who  was  in- 

137 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

terested  in  oil,  after  he  had  left  him  last  night? 
Anyone  at  all?  Had  he  mentioned  Comlough's 
plans  to  a  living  soul — to  anyone?  Comlough 
hated  this  type  of  querying,  but  Lynn  was  not 
offended.  No — not  to  a  soul — not  even  to  Marcia. 
When  Comlough  left  he  gripped  his  hand. 

"No  matter  what  it  is,  Cooper,  that  I  can  do  for 
you,"  said  Lynn  earnestly,  "give  me  the  word,  and 
I'll  do  it.  Man — only  call  on  me! " 

In  his  office  again  Comlough  got  into  communi 
cation  in  turn  with  Stover,  Ralston,  Ochia,  Kirk- 
man,  Inspector  Snell,  and  DePinna  and  del  Corral 
in  Washington.  Something  like  chaos  seemed  to 
have  touched  the  clean  sharp  outlines  of  his  affairs. 
Then,  right  after  lunch,  came  the  most  unexpected 
blow  of  all. 

"Cooper!"  It  was  Lynn's  voice  which  came 
through  the  receiver,  as  he  accepted  it  from 
Wallace.  Comlough  read  disaster  in  the  mere 
intonation  of  his  own  name  coming  with  a  pre 
monitory  quaver  over  the  wire. 

"Yes!" 

"Hell's  broke  loose!" 

Comlough's  pulse  was  like  the  grinding  of  ice — 
so  cold. 

138 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Yes!"  he  said,  coldly,  mechanically. 

"Gulf  Lubricant" — code  phrase  for  Utopian 
Oil — "sold  out  to  what  they  thought  were  stock- 
raising  interests  at  nine-thirty  this  morning. 
Texcol  bought  them  up,  too.  What's  more — in 
some  way  they've  got  hold  of  Kilcairn  and  his 
block!"  There  was  a  pause.  "Old  man,  I  feel  as 
bad  as  you  do,"  Lynn's  voice  came  over  the  wire 
almost  brokenly. 

Comlough  hung  up  the  receiver  and  went  to  the 
window.  He  gripped  his  hands  behind  him  and 
just  looked  out — looked  out.  From  the  pride  and 
eminence  of  his  nineteen  stories  he  saw  nothing  of 
the  caterpillar  fuss  of  the  lower  East  River  and  the 
smudge  of  Brooklyn.  For  a  long  time  he  saw  noth 
ing.  Then,  instead  of  the  bay  and  the  city  across 
the  river,  he  saw  again  his  illimitable  tract  out 
there  in  the  southwest,  traversed  in  two  strategic 
places  by  holdings  he  had  almost  secured — and 
lost.  Saw  it,  too,  as  it  would  not  be — as  he  had 
dreamed  his  dream  of  it;  bringing  order,  purpose, 
vision  into  that  desolate  range  plain — something 
different  from  the  hodge-podge  of  mud  and  greed, 
flash  promotion,  misdirected  zeal,  thieving  and 
muddling,  weak  and  avaricious  and  neurotic  hopes 

139 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

of  wealth  which  had  characterized  the  other  great 
oil  strikes.  His  dream  of  great  industrial  organiza 
tion  to  carry  the  authentic  Tightness  of  his  pur 
poses  from  Pago- Pago  to  Reykjavik!  A  face 
formed  itself  slowly  into  vividness  between  him  and 
the  scene.  Marcia! — The  next  moment  every 
thing  was  swept  out  of  his  mind  by  the  heaviest 
shock  the  inherent  sardonicism  of  things  and  men's 
natures  could  have  meted  out  to  him. 

"Mr.  Stover  is  here,"  Wallace  said  from  the 
doorway. 

' '  Send  him  in. "  He  crossed  to  meet  him.  Some 
thing  in  Stover's  face  stopped  him  in  the  center  of 
the  big  room.  "What — is  it,  Deems?"  he  asked. 

Stover  looked  at  the  floor,  slowly  walked  past 
Comlough,  and,  tossing  his  hat  on  the  big  table  half 
sat  on  the  edge,  his  foot  slowly  swinging,  watching 
it  swing  for  probably  a  half  minute  before  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  Comlough's.  Then  he  spoke. 

"I  know  who  took  your  bag,"  he  said,  slowly, 
quietly. 

Comlough  started — more  at  his  tones  than  at 
their  import. 

"Who?" 

"Evans  Lynn,"  said  Stover. 
140 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER  AND  SNAKE 

Comlough  stood  graven.  Stover  thought  for 
an  instant  that  he  had  not  heard.  Then  he  looked 
down  at  the  oil  man's  hands.  They  were  inter 
locked  with  a  visible  tension  that  seemed  as  though 
it  might  snap  off  his  fingers. 

"Who — ?"  he  asked,  with  a  kind  of  dead  calm, 
glaring,  glaring  beyond  Stover. 

The  latter  reached  over  and  gently  put  one  hand 
on  the  other's  locked  hands.  The  touch  broke  the 
strain  in  Comlough.  Something  savage  flared  in 
his  deep  eyes,  hidden  further  than  ever,  it  seemed, 
behind  his  sharp-shelving  brows.  In  the  soaring 
red  hell  of  that  moment  he  thought  of  a  woman 
first.  He  grasped  Stover's  arms  with  a  grip  which 
entered  into  the  slighter  man  like  a  burn. 

"Who  else  knows  it?"  he  snapped  hoarsely  at 
him. 

"OnlyKirkman.    He " 

"Won't  tell!  Understand,  Stover — he  won't 
tell!  Seal  him!  Seal  your  own  soul  on  this! 
Promise  me — man — damn  it,  promise  me!"  He 
shook  Stover  as  though  he  were  weightless,  and 
suddenly  dropped  his  hands  from  his  arms.  ' '  Now, 
Deems — go,"  he  said  in  a  whisper.  "Go — I  want 
to  think." 

141 


CHAPTER  X 

FOR  a  long  time  he  sat  motionless ;  not  thinking 
— his  thoughts  were  too  volatile — but  trying  to 
order  his  mind  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  think. 
Gradually,  with  that  curious  detachment  from  his 
own  bruised  affairs  which  he  had  experienced  a 
short  time  before,  Marcia's  face  again  formed  itself 
with  extraordinary  distinctness  in  the  distracted 
spaces  of  his  mind,  and  he  seemed  to  detect  again 
that  slight  innuendo  of  hurt  in  her  voice  as  she 
inquired  half -jestingly  why  he  had  kept  Lynn  out 
so  late — Lynn !  Like  motes  streaming  into  a  light 
beam,  stray  points  of  thoughts  and  recollections 
drifted  into  consciousness,  odds  and  ends  of  acts 
and  suggestions  of  acts  on  Lynn's  part  which 
had  been  tucked  away  unheeded  in  his  subcon- 
sciousness;  to  corroborate  Stover.  Strange  he 
had  not  insisted  on  proof;  and  not  strange.  The 
proof  was  already  within  himself;  it  was  seeping 
forth  now.  The  look  Lynn  had  cast  on  the  woman 
who  had  passed  them;  his  exaggerated  reticence 

142 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

concerning  his  business  affairs  to  Marcia ;  Stover's 
remark  about  seeing  him  on  Thirty-seventh  Street 
with  a  woman  he  supposed  was  Marcia — when 
Marcia  was  out  of  town;  the  queer  inflection  of 
Stover's  voice  when  he  had  spoken  of  Lynn  in  the 
hallway  early  that  morning;  the  light  brown  suit 
Lynn  had  worn  the  night  before — the  dinner  that 
evening  being  informal  because  Comlough  was  to 
leave  their  house  to  go  to  his  train;  Lynn's  adept- 
ness  at  Spanish — having  lived  in  Buenos  Aires 
he  could  manage  the  accent  which  went  with  that 
grandee  roller  of  vowels,  Carlos  Cardoza;  Lynn's 
knowledge  of  his  plans  in  detail — it  was  through 
him,  indeed,  that  the  instructions  had  gone  to 
Ochia  to  bring  the  bag  to  the  station.  Lynn  might 
possibly  have  gone  to  the  station  at  first  to  ask  him 
about  something,  and  seen  Ochia — got  the  idea  of 
stealing  the  bag — suddenly.  He  could  do  it  better 
than  anyone.  If  Ochia  caught  him  at  it,  he  could 
laugh  it  away — would  not  even  have  to  do  that — 
the  Japanese  knew  him  so  well.  It  was  Lynn  then, 
who  was  behind — who  was  the  Texcol  Oil  and 
Asphalt  Corporation. 

Almost  gently  it  all  arranged  itself  in  his  mind ; 
but   when   his   consciousness   fully   grasped   the 

143 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

significance  and  connection  of  all  these  trifles  and 
inevitable  conclusions,  they  seemed  more  authen 
tic  than  Stover's  statement  itself;  they  rained 
conviction  anew  in  on  him  with  horrible,  freshly 
revealing  light. 

Like  a  world  of  skyscrapers  tumbling  on  him, 
the  revelation  of  the  perfidy  of  his  oldest  friend — 
the  man  whom  he  had  saved  from  jail — came 
crashing  about  his  head — came,  too,  amidst  all 
the  throbbing  racket  of  his  horror  at  it,  with  as 
indisputable  claim  to  actuality  as  the  daylight. 
It  is  one  thing,  however,  to  have  a  thing  revealed 
to  one;  another  thing  entirely  to  comprehend  it. 
For  a  long  time  he  sat  trying  to  comprehend  it. 
There  were  minutes  when  he  repeated  over  and 
over,  "My  friend — and  he  did  this  to  me!  My 
friend !  My  friend ! ' ' 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  and  his  shoulders 
shook  convulsively,  despite  his  iron  self-control, 
before  he  completely  got  himself  in  hand  again, 
and  he  muttered : 

"Marcia — oh,  God — Marcia!    Marcia!" 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  need  befell  the  hunter 
in  the  old  Laos  fable,  and  remembering  the  man 

144 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

whom  he  had  befriended  and  who  had  promised 
aid  should  he,  the  hunter,  ever  be  in  difficulty,  he 
went. 

But  you  know  already  how  the  man  repaid  his 
benefactor. 


CHAPTER  XI 

"GENTLEMEN,  we  are  willing  to  do  anything  in 
our  power  to  help  you  further  the  industrial  posi 
tion  of  Texas,  and  the  country  at  large — of  that 
you  must  be  assured — but  the  fact  remains  that 
you  have  not  that  necessary  beginning  you  require 
to  start  operations.  We  are  willing  to  see  to  it 
that  you  get  the  requisite  franchises  for  your  rail 
road;  the  concessions  for  your  dams  and  other 
developments — but  obviously  we  cannot  grant  you 
rights  for  putting  down  something  on  something 
you  do  not  possess!" 

Senator  Morrissey  expressed  the  minds  of  his 
fellows  to  Comlough,  Colonel  Maurice,  and  Har- 
greave  at  the  end  of  the  two-hour  conference  in 
Comlough's  office. 

"That's  all  right — we  will  possess  them!"  said 
Maurice  bluntly.  "I  am  buying  this  Texcol  as 
sociation  out!"  he  added  grimly. 

In  Comlough's  ears  it  sounded  the  death  knell 
of  his  hopes.  In  that  original  plan  of  his  it  was 

146 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

he  who  was  to  organize  the  development  of  the 
great  Texas  holdings  on  a  basis  which  was  to 
have  been  a  point  of  industrial  departure  and  social 
forward-looking.  "Buy  'em  out!"  The  brutal 
grip  of  old-time  moneyed  power  and  methods 
exemplified  in  Maurice  was  at  the  helm  again. 

The  meeting  broke  up,  and  shortly  after  five 
o'clock  he  was  left  alone  in  his  office.  Irresistibly 
his  thoughts  began  circling  about  Lynn.  After  all, 
Lynn  was  the  key  to  the  situation.  Putting  the 
mere  sentimental  hurt  and  personal  consideration 
entirely  away  from  him  for  the  time  being,  he 
began  to  analyze  Lynn's  position. 

He  rang  for  Wallace  and  ordered  the  report  on 
Texcol  Oil  and  Asphalt  brought  to  him.  The 
company,  he  learned  now,  had  been  incorporated 
not  one  but  two  years.  The  president  and  chair 
man  of  the  board  of  directors  were  one — W.  R.  R. 
Yerger.  Comlough  had  heard  of  him.  Never 
remembered  having  seen  him;  remembered  no 
one  he  knew  who  knew  him.  Vice-president  and 
treasurer  were  unknown  to  him ;  the  secretary  was 
Timothy  Kilcairn !  He  began  dimly  to  understand 
in  what  way  Lynn  had  tied  up  with  this  organiza 
tion.  Finding  Kilcairn  he  had  found  a  whole 

147 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

miniature  corporation  ready  to  be  used — on  the 
market  probably  for  a  song. 

Gradually  as  he  pushed  on  his  study  of  Lynn's 
connection  with  Texcol — seeing  him  now  hiding 
behind  one  of  the  unknown  names  as  vice-presi 
dent  or  treasurer ;  sensing  him  as  the  power  behind 
the  whole  organization,  which  he  had  so  conven 
iently  come  on,  just  as  Comlough's  confidences 
made  the  use  of  such  machinery  opportune — one 
recurrent  question  protruded  itself  more  and  more 
insistently.  Where  had  the  seemingly  inexhaust 
ible  fund  of  money  with  which  the  Texcol  had 
bought  in  the  Long  Horn  and  Lone  Star  R.  R., 
Maracaibo  concessions,  the  Colombian  holdings, 
Utopian  and  Texan  Improvement,  come  from? 
And  gradually  cold  suspicion  grew  in  Comlough 
to  the  hardness  of  fact.  It  had  come  from  where 
that  other  sum  had  come — the  coffers  or  the  time 
envelopes  in  the  vaults  of  the  Clinton  Loan  and 
Trust  Company.  Vice-president,  head  of  the  loan 
department,  Lynn  could  in  his  discretion  issue 
loans  upon  preposterous  security,  if  he  were  so 
minded — lend  a  million  dollars  in  a  few  instal 
ments  on  a  deed  of  Brooklyn  Bridge! 

He  had  been  silent  after  that  night  when  he 
148 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

first  learned  of  Lynn's  manipulation  of  bank  funds. 
Lynn  must  have  been  shrewd  enough  to  have 
covered  that  transaction  completely  by  now,  and 
how  could  he  prove  it?  Furthermore,  he  was 
implicated  himself  there,  if  anything — vicariously 
as  accessory.  Moreover,  digging  it  up  would  not 
aid  him  to  get  back  the  options  and  stocks  and 
railroad  he  wanted.  And  then  the  effect  on  Mau 
rice  and  Hargreave  and  others  that  he  had  so 
debonairly  chatted  away  his  plans  and  the  secrets 
of  United  Americas  Petroleum  to  a  man  who  had 
come  to  him,  his  hands  still  full  of  the  muck  of  his 
slimy  handling  of  a  position  of  wealth  and  trust. 
He  must  get  Lynn  some  other  way.  It  must  be 
done  delicately.  At  the  first  hint  of  trouble  Lynn 
would  probably  effect  the  sale  of  everything  he  had 
feloniously  acquired — to  Maurice,  say,  at  a  colossal 
profit — without  connecting  himself  in  the  slightest 
way  with  it.  But  there  must  be  a  way  to  get  at 
him,  before  any  such  sale  was  consummated. 

There  crystallized  in  him  now  the  implacable 
purpose  to  crush  Lynn ;  to  strip  him  and  crush  him 
until  it  hurt  unmercifully.  His  fists  closed,  and 
suddenly,  as  he  concentrated  on  this  determina 
tion  to  smash  Lynn,  he  saw  before  him  again — 

149 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Marcia!  Again,  tinder  the  weight  of  all  that  was 
torturing  him,  he  thought  of  her.  Yet  for  once 
she  seemed  unconnected  with  Lynn,  although  in 
thinking  of  breaking  him  he  had  thought  of  her. 
Aloof  she  seemed,  remote  from  the  man  who  had 
been  his  friend,  and  the  picture  of  her  now  in  no 
way  weakened  the  vow  he  made  to  strip  and  crush, 
smash  and  break  her  husband  even  if  that  necessi 
tated  the  revelation  to  her  of  that  husband  just 
as  he  was. 

But  the  rottenness  of  it!  Evening  came  on. 
He  got  up  and  looked  out  of  his  window.  Sunset 
on  the  greatest  harbor  in  the  world.  Nile  green, 
purple,  orange,  carmine,  prismatic  the  water  shone. 
The  width,  the  significance  of  it ;  the  deep  throb 
bing  peace  and  serenity  of  it.  The  rottenness  of 
men!  Men's  words — promises!  They  were  like  a 
bad  taste  in  the  mouth.  Lynn — that  night  he  had 
waited  for  him  to  come  out  of  Hargreave's  house, 
and  gone  with  him  to  his  home.  How  he  had  pulled 
him  out  of  disgrace,  dishonor,  dismay,  distress, 
ruin,  prison,  damnation ! 

"Cooper — you  can  trust  me  as  you  do  your  own 
soul! — You  will  never  know  all  the  gratitude  that 
is  in  me  to-night!" — Syllable  by  syllable  he  re- 

150 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

called  Lynn's  words,  mentally  repeating  them  in 
Lynn's  very  intonation.  "All  I  can  tell  you  of  it 
is  this — if  you're  ever  in  trouble — you  will  find 
there  is  nothing  of  mine  in  this  world  which  is  not 
yours ! — Call  on  me,  Cooper,  if  ever  you  have  to ! — 
And  there  is  in  God's  world  nothing  I  wouldn't  do 
for  you!" 

He  cried  the  last  words  aloud  in  the  silence 
of  his  office,  and  then  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
laughed.  Laughed,  laughed!  The  grating  guffaw 
of  disillusionment.  Maudlin,  treacherous  drivel! 
And  he  laughed  and  laughed,  that  genial  fund  of 
human  kindliness  in  him  shrinking  with  each 
mirthless  note  of  that  laughter.  And  then,  by  a 
mental  cross  current,  a  kind  of  crossed  wiring  of 
thought  suggestion,  he  remembered  two  other 
protestations  of  gratitude  made  by  a  man  and  a 
woman — a  tiger  and  a  snake — to  him,  and  he 
suddenly  fell  into  deep,  brooding  silence. 

After  a  while  he  drew  a  piece  of  paper  to  him 
and  began  to  make  brief  notes,  pausing  frequently 
and  straining  his  memory  for  something  of  frailest 
substance.  He  made  many  corrections.  Eventu 
ally  he  had  a  short  table  of  jottings  set  down. 

"  I.     Clicking — like  a  ratchet — three  or  four. 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"2.  Knob  whirled  forward  then  backward — no- 
mere  than  three-quarters  revol.  each  way. 

"3.  Triple  click — like  i.  This  brings  up  outer 
door. 

"4.     Knob  whirled  again.  This  turns  outer  door. 

"5.    Works  levers. 

"  6.     Whirls  disk. 

"7.  Twists  hinging  pin.  This  opens  copper 
door." 

He  had  seen  the  night  before  what  pride  and 
confidence  Lynn  had  in  that  safe  of  his.  Lynn's 
safe !  That  was  the  key  to  the  situation !  It  was  a 
mania  with  Lynn.  Like  a  child  with  a  toy.  Then, 
of  course,  in  that  study  of  his  he  had  unmolested 
freedom  to  contemplate  and  work  over  his  schemes, 
spread  out  what  plans  he  was  sketching,  examine, 
unbothered,  what  papers  he  needed  to  examine. 
Lynn  had  a  whole  bank  to  keep  papers  and  stocks 
in,  but  Comlough  had  the  feeling — as  certain  as 
any  he  had  ever  had — that  Lynn  had  tucked  his 
most  secret  and  valuable  materials  into  his  own 
safe.  For  corroboration  he  now  remembered  the 
way  Lynn's  hands  had  involuntarily  gone  to  the 
door  of  one  of  the  locked  compartments,  only  to  be 
quickly  withdrawn. 

152 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

It  was  about  a  quarter  of  nine  when  he  got  up 
from  his  chair  with  a  start,  stiff  with  the  immo 
bility  of  the  last  hours.  But  he  had  found  some 
thing.  He  went  out  to  the  deserted  telephone 
board,  and  plugged  a  connection  himself. 

"Audubon  4-1-4-7-6!"  he  called. 

He  asked  for  Ethel  Pearson.  Not  there,  a  thin 
sharp  voice  informed  him.  Could  they  tell  him 
where  he  might  get  in  touch  with  her?  Yes,  at 
once.  No — but  she  was  going  to  call  up  around  ten- 
thirty.  She  was  expecting  another  call  to  come 
in  at  that  time.  Any  message  for  her  then  ?  He 
wasn't  by  chance  Mr.  Slater?  No — he  wasn't  Mr. 
Slater.  He  was  Cooper  Comlough.  He  had  a 
message  for  Miss  Pearson.  He  repeated  his  name 
— spelled  it  out  while  the  sharp  voice  repeated  the 
letters  with  practiced  facility  and  wrote  them 
down.  "Please  ask  Miss  Pearson  to  meet  me  at 
the," — he  hesitated, — "in  the  lobby  of  the  Bristol 
Hotel  at  eleven  o'clock  this  evening.  Tell  her  this 
is  urgent.  See  that  she  gets  my  name  exactly. 
Just  tell  her— 'last  night!'  That's  all.  Thank 
you." 

It  was  nine  o'clock.  He  wrote  two  notes :  turned 
out  the  lights  and  hurried  to  the  elevator.  His 

153 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

automobile  was  waiting.  He  sent  Tom  with  the 
notes  to  Updike  and  Hargreave,  and  getting  behind 
the  wheel  himself,  drove  to  Brooklyn  Bridge,  over 
it  and  out  Flatbush  Avenue.  At  exactly  nine- 
thirty  he  reached  number  4271,  the  address  of 
Sadie  Miles,  the  sister  of  Joe  Glenn,  alias  "Mc- 
Devitt,"  alias  "The  Tiger,"  and  alias  "Mystic 
Fingers." 

Comlough  had  met  Herschel  Deliver  a  few  days 
before.  "That  fellow  Glenn's  o.  k.!"  Deliver 
said. 

Glenn  was  in.  He  shot  a  look  of  astonishment 
out  of  his  black  eyes  at  Comlough.  He  was  neatly 
dressed ;  contented  looking. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you  a  minute,  Glenn.  Will 
you  come  outside?  Take  your  hat." 

Outside  on  the  pavement  he  regarded  Glenn 
closely.  He  had  lost  the  lean,  feline  look  of  a  big 
cat  at  bay.  His  litheness  of  poise  as  if  about  to 
spring  was  tempered  down  to  a  quiet,  less  challeng 
ing  self-assurance.  He  was  like  a  man  newly 
arrived  at  safety,  and  finding  it  sweet — would 
never  tamper  with  insecurity  again.  He  met  Com- 
lough's  gaze  with  surprise,  but  also  with  self- 
reliance. 

154 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Jump  in.  I've  got  to  be  in  town  by  eleven. 
Ride  in  with  me." 

He  got  in  without  a  word ;  wonderingly. 

"Like  your  job?"  They  were  speeding  toward 
Manhattan. 

"Yes."  Still  wonderingly.  He  was  trying  to 
grasp  what  it  was  all  about — Comlough's  sudden 
reappearance;  the  request  to  ride  into  town  with 
him ;  the  other's  air  of  a  plan  up  his  sleeve. 

"Feels  good  to  be  straight — with  nobody  watch 
ing  you — nobody  in  the  world  waiting  to  put 
something  on  you?" 

Glenn  took  a  deep  breath.  "  I'll  say  so !  Good — 
yeh,  yeh!" 

"You'd  never  crack  another  safe,  eh?" 

1 '  Never  again — hell,  no ! " 

"Straight  for  life!" 

"Straighter'n  that  track  ahead  of  us." 

"Nothing  will  make  you,  eh?" 

"Hell  itself  couldn't." 

Comlough  drove  on :  one  block,  two  blocks,  three 
blocks  in  silence.  "Before  I  say  anything  more," 
he  said  at  last,  "in  order  to  maintain  your  belief 
that  now  and  then  a  fellow  does  lend  a  lift  to 
another  expecting  nothing  in  return  for  it — I'm 

155 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

going  to  apologize  for  doing  something  I  never 
believed  I  would  do.  I'm  going  to  remind  you 
how  we  met." 

"You  don't  have  to,"  said  Glenn.  "I  got  a 
good  memory." 

"And  how  we  parted." 

"I  remember  it." 

"You  remember  just  how  it  was  then?" 

"Why — sure — up  there  at  your  club,"  mystifica 
tion  filled  Glenn's  speech. 

"Right.  You  remember  we  shook  hands — and 
you  said  something." 

"I  can  say  it  now,"  said  Glenn  quickly. 

' '  That  if  I  ever  needed  help — anything  you  could 
do  for  me — you  would  do  it." 

"I  meant  it." 

"Anything  you  could  do — you  meant  it,  eh?" 

"Yes." 

Two  more  blocks  in  silence.  "Anything  you 
could  do! — Well,  there  is  something!  Something 
only  you  can  do  for  me,  Mystic  Fingers!" 

Glenn  started  at  Comlough's  use  of  that  name. 
"What  is  it?"  he  said  slowly. 

Comlough  kept  his  eyes  on  the  road  ahead. 
"To  crack  a  safe!"  he  said  quietly. 

156 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

He  felt  the  man  beside  him  grow  rigid. 

"To — to  crack  a  safe!"  Glenn  repeated  in  a 
whisper,  incomprehensibly,  after  a  time.  "Crack 
a  safe ! "  he  repeated  again.  ' ' To  crack  a  safe ! ' ' 

"You  said  to  me  that  night,"  said  Comlough, 
disregarding  the  rigidity  of  the  man  beside  him, 
"that  if  I  should  ever  need  anything  a  man  like 
you  could  do,  you  would  do  it  to  pay  me  back. 
Those  were  your  words." 

"Yes,"  whispered  Glenn. 

"And  now  I  must  look  at  the  inside  of  a  certain 
safe." 

The  man  beside  him  moved  uneasily  once  with 
a  start,  then  sat  immobile  and  silent  while  the 
automobile  cut  through  an  empty  block.  They 
passed  a  trolley  midway  in  the  next  block.  As 
they  flashed  through  the  yellow  broadside  of  light 
it  shed,  Comlough  turned.  Glenn  was  looking 
straight  in  front  of  him,  his  face  white,  drawn; 
with  a  knob  of  muscle  protruding  from  his  tensed 
jaw-line,  set  with  the  tightness  of  a  hatchet  head 
driven  into  a  hickory  block. 

"Ain't  there  any  other  way  ? "  he  asked  softly. 

"No  other  way,"  said  Comlough. 

"Is  it  dangerous?" 

157 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Yes." 

"What  kind  of  a  safe?" 

"The  best  safe  in  the  world,  according  to  its 
owner.  I've  seen  it.  It's  a  steel  ball  about  three 
feet  in  diameter.  Made  by  the  man  who  made 
the  Glober — Brownlow.  Double  doors,  electrically 
charged  base,  alarm — everything." 

"Where  is  it?" 

"In  a  residence." 

The  man  whistled — rather,  shrilled  faintly 
through  his  teeth.  He  was  still  gazing  straight 
ahead. 

"In  a  residence!"  he  repeated.  "I'm  out  o' 
training — I'm  out  o'  heart  with  this  sort  of  stuff, 
Mr.  Comlough,"  he  said  wearily.  "If  I'm  caught 
— it's  life  for  me,  Mr.  Comlough,"  he  said  grimly. 
"Life!" 

"I  understand  that." 

Neither  looked  at  the  other.  Both  stared  ahead 
fixedly.  They  had  swung  from  Flatbush  Avenue 
long  ago  and  now  turned  to  Manhattan  Bridge. 
Lights  pin-pricked  numerously  the  granite  mass 
across  the  bridge;  pricked  at  intervals  and  with 
softer  and  varied  colored  disks  the  smooth  gleam 
of  the  river.  A  haze  of  faint  illumination  hung 

158 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

over  the  nebulae  of  the  lamps  of  the  city  ahead 
like  smoke  or — well,  like  the  breath  or  perfume 
of  freedom,  Comlough  thought.  Life  seemed 
especially  big,  spacious,  precious  from  that  road 
above  the  river  between  the  immense  halves  of 
the  wide  world's  metropolis.  Half-way  across  the 
great  span  Glenn  spoke  again.  His  voice  had  a 
faint  shiver  through  its  whispered  syllables;  a 
grate  of  hoarseness. 

"It  means  life  in  jail  for  me,"  he  muttered,  as 
though  to  himself,  ruminatingly 

"You  promised,"  put  in  Comlough  softly.  He 
felt  the  other  shift  in  his  seat,  and  heard  him  gulp. 

" — and  you  say  there  ain't  no  other  way,"  Glenn 
went  on,  ruminatingly. 

"No  other  way,"  put  in  Comlough;  and  again 
he  felt  Glenn  shift,  and  heard  him  gulp.  They 
swung  into  the  merging  of  Canal  Street  and  the 
Bowery  with  a  swish. 

1 '  God— a'right !    1 11  do  it !"  said  Glenn  quietly. 

Through  Lafayette  Street  they  raced.  At  Astor 
Place  Comlough  stopped  the  automobile.  He  gave 
Glenn  the  slip  of  paper  with  the  jottings  of  the 
various  manipulations  Lynn  had  given  to  his  safe 
to  open  it,  as  he  remembered  them.  Nothing 

159 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

accurate,  he  explained  to  Glenn ;  but  still  a  general 
chart  to  work  by,  perhaps.  He  told  him  further 
what  he  knew  of  Brownlow,  who  had  made  the 
safe.  He  could  arrange  to  have  Glenn  visit  Brown- 
low's  shop  to  examine  the  type  of  safe  which  Lynn 
owned,  presumably  it  might  be  to  purchase  one. 
Glenn  was  to  call  Comlough's  house  each  evening 
at  eight  to  learn  when  they  were  to  meet,  and  to 
receive  instructions.  Either  Comlough  himself  or 
Ralston  would  speak  to  him.  The  event  would 
take  place  within  the  next  two  or  three  weeks. 

"Understand  this  one  thing  clearly,  Glenn,"  he 
said.  "You  are  under  no  actual  obligation  to  me. 
When  they  jumped  you  that  day  my  particular 
sense  of  justice  was  tormented,  and  I  satisfied 
myself  when  I  interfered.  Then,"  said  Comlough, 
his  voice  pounding  along  on  an  even,  cold  key, 
"don't  make  the  mistake  of  seeing  me  repeat  on 
you  what  Donovan  tried  in  his  way.  You  never 
were  freer  in  your  lif e  to  say  if  you  wanted  to  do  a 
thing,  or  didn't  want  to  do  a  thing,  than  you  are 
at  this  minute  about  this  thing.  You  have  a  good 
job.  You  have  made  good  already.  You  will  keep 
on  in  your  job ;  keep  on  making  good,  if  you  come 
in  with  me  now  or  not — unless  we're  caught.  If 

160 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

you  say  no  to  this  thing  I'm  putting  up  to  you, 
which  may  mean  your  liberty,  or  even  your  life, 
there  is  time  right  now  to  get  out.  I  shall  probably 
never  see  you  again;  never  mention  you  again; 
never  interfere  in  any  way  in  your  life.  Get  all  this 
straight,  Glenn,"  said  Comlough. 

Glenn  looked  past  Comlough  for  a  moment, 
then  put  out  his  hand.  They  shook  hands  without 
a  word.  Comlough  looked  hard  at  Glenn;  Glenn 
looked  hard  at  Comlough. 

As  Comlough  drove  through  Eighth  Street  to 
Fifth  Avenue,  Glenn  stood  rigid  a  minute  looking 
across  at  the  blocked  bulkiness  of  Cooper  Union. 
Then,  just  as  Comlough  was  swerving  round  the 
Brevoort,  the  Tiger,  his  face  pale,  his  jaw  clamped 
in  that  hard-knobbed  line,  his  eyes  moving  with 
unusual  alertness  beneath  narrowed  and  half- 
concealing  lids,  a  heavy  weight  on  his  chest  and  his 
consciousness,  stepped  lithely  and  swiftly  into  the 
subway  entrance. 


161 


CHAPTER  XII 

COMLOUGH  was  in  the  lobby  of  the  Bristol  punc 
tually  at  eleven  o'clock.  He  had  waited  ten 
minutes  when  a  bellboy  came  through  crying  his 
name. 

"Mr.  Comlough — ?  Wanted  at  the  tele 
phone,  sir!" 

It  was  the  Courtney  woman — or  Ethel  Pearson. 
She  talked  quickly,  as  though  in  a  hurry. 

"I  couldn't  come  down,  Mr.  Comlough.  Sorry 
— but  just  couldn't  make  it.  What's  up,  any 
how?" 

"I  need  your  help,"  he  said  bluntly. 

' '  My — help  ? ' '  she  repeated. 

"I  am  presuming  on  whatever  service  I  may 
have  rendered  you  last  night,  Miss  Pearson — I 
need  your  help!" 

"Sure — glad  to  do  anything  I  can,"  she  said  in  a 
skeptical  voice,  a  little  as  though  she  had  expected 
the  mere  male  in  him  to  call  her  soon. 

"Come  down  here  right  away." 
162 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

There  was  a  pause.  ' '  That — is  impossible, ' '  she 
said  hurriedly.  ' '  Can't !  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Comlough 
— I'm  up  here  at  Maxim's,  on  Thirty-eighth.  I'm 
with  a  party,  and  for  certain  reasons  I  can't  break 
away." 

"I  must  see  you." 

There  was  another  pause.  "I  tell  you" — she 
spoke  more  hurriedly  and  lower, — "can  you  come 
up  here  ?  I  don't  mean  just  here.  I  tell  you  what : 
go  to  Marquette's — across  the  way — the  upstairs 
dining-room,  in  back.  I'll  make  some  sort  of  spiel 
and  run  across  for  a  minute." 

"I'll  be  there  in  five  minutes!" 

He  sat  down  in  the  rear  parlor-floor  section  of 
Marquette's  table  d'hote.  She  came  in  through 
the  double  side  door  and  crossed  rapidly  over  to 
him  and  sat  down. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  she  asked,  a  little  knowing 
smile  on  her  lips  as  though  she  guessed  his  errand. 

She  was  still  better  dressed  than  the  night  before, 
but  there  was  the  same  twisting  sinuosity  about 
her — a  sleaziness  of  raiment  and  carriage.  There 
was  a  little  too  much  rouge  on  her  face;  her  lips 
were  too  red ;  her  eyebrows  too  well  traced,  and  it 
was  too  powerful,  that  swim  of  perfume  emanating 

163 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

from  her.  Yet  there  was  no  doubt  about  it,  she 
was  stunning,  in  the  strict  Manhattan  sense  of 
the  word.  And  she  would  do  wonderfully  well  for 
what  he  needed.  She  looked  at  him  from  under 
veiling,  willing  eyelashes,  like  a  woman  who  has 
come  upon  just  another  verification  of  her  theory 
of  life  and  men. 

"Well — what  is  it? "  she  repeated,  as  though  she 
already  knew. 

"You  said  last  night  I  did  you  a  service,"  he 
said,  almost  brusquely. 

She  nodded  without  enthusiasm,  as  though  she 
had  known  then  that  sooner  or  later  he  meant  to 
cash  in  on  it — they  all  do — but  she  had  thought 
that  he  would  let  a  few  days  pass. 

"  It  is  not  my  habit  to  put  people  under  obligation 
to  me, ' '  he  said.  ' '  I  hope  you  will  understand  that. ' ' 

"Goon." 

"You  said  if  you  could  ever  help  me  in  any  way 
you  would  do  so.  Well — I  need  your  help  now, 
Miss  Pearson." 

She  was  a  little  puzzled  by  his  detachment :  his 
refraining  from  playing  up  to  the  woman  in  her. 
He  could  see  that. 

"I  know  I  said  I'd  like  to  pay  you  back.  I 
164 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

wouldn't  forget  in  twenty-four  hours,"  she  said 
pointedly,  without  committing  herself  over  again. 

He  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  establish  his 
disinterestedness  in  her. 

"If  you  remember,  I  said  last  night  that  I  came 
to  the  court  at  great  inconvenience  to  myself," 
with  brutal  emphasis.  "I  missed  a  train  it  was 
important  for  me  to  have  taken.  Later  I  missed 
something  else,  too." 

"Yes,"  she  nodded.     "What  was  it?" 

"A  bag.  It  was  stolen  from  my  man.  It 
contained  valuable  papers." 

She  moved  uneasily;  her  raised  silken  ankle 
beneath  her  crossed  knees  swinging  to  and  fro  out 
of  the  fringe  of  her  clinging  skirt. 

"I — am  sorry;  but  what  can  I  do?"  she  asked, 
studying  him  closely.  She  gave  a  quick  glance  at 
the  clock  above  the  china-piled  sideboard  and  again 
moved  nervously.  It  was  obvious  that  someone 
important  in  her  scheme  of  things  was  waiting  for 
her;  obvious,  too,  that  just  now  she  meant  that  to 
be  obvious. 

' '  This.  I  want  you  to  go  to  a  man  I  know — to  go 
to  him  as  though  on  business — and  find  out  for  me 
how  much  of  a  rotter  he  is." 

165 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

She  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"He  has  a  wife  and  two  children,"  said  Com- 
lough,  meeting  her  hard,  brilliant  eyes;  "but  I 
think  he  would  follow  you  out  of  the  city  for  several 
days.  He  must  do  that." 

' '  You  want  me  to  go  to  a  man  who  has  a  wife  and 
two  children  and  show  him  up  for  a  rotter  by  get 
ting  him  to  go  away  with  me? "  she  asked,  incredu 
lous,  her  eyes  narrowing. 

' '  He'll  come  after  you.  I  want  you  to  make  him 
come  after  you." 

"I  don't  get  you,"  she  said  with  deep  mistrust. 
She  looked  at  the  clock  again.  ' '  Besides,  I'm  going 
away  myself  to-morrow — so  you'll  have  to  rule  me 
out." 

She  put  both  feet  down  and  smoothed  her  skirt 
at  the  knees.  He  leaned  toward  her. 

"Miss  Pearson — you  don't  get  me!  What  I  am 
asking  you  to  do  is  one  of  the  justest  things  you 
could  be  asked  to  do.  It's  unusual,  but  it's  just. 
Whether  you  believe  me  or  not,  when  I  left  you 
last  night  I  never  expected  to  see  or  hear  of  you 
again.  I  had  passed  by — had  been  able  to  give 
you  a  lift — that  was  all.  I  all  but  forgot  you  the 
moment  we  parted.  I  had  no  intention  of  carry- 

166 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

ing  the  memory  of  my  bit  of  help  to  you  round  with 
me  like  a  personal  note  on  you  to  pay  up  on  another 
day.  But  now  you  can  lay  me  under  infinite 
obligation  to  yourself.  For  a  certain  length  of  time 
I've  got  to  get  a  man  out  of  town,  who  has  be 
trayed  every  trust  men  and  women  put  in  him;  a 
man  who  has  struck  me  pretty  hard  and  all  but 
knocked  me  under.  And,  in  a  sense,  I  can't  move 
against  him  because  a  woman  ties  me — and  I  want 
to  prove  that  aside  from  his  relations  to  men,  his 
relations  to  women  are  such  that  I  don't  have  to 
feel  tied  by  her,  because  she  should  be  under  no 
delusions  either.  You  see  what  I  mean?" 

She  looked  steadily  at  him. 

"You  mean  you're  in  love  with  her  ? "  she  said. 

He  lowered  his  head  for  a  moment.  He  raised 
his  eyes  to  her  again. 

"That — Miss  Pearson,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to 
discuss,"  he  said  quietly. 

She  leaned  over  to  him  and  touched  his  sleeve. 

"Mr.  Comlough,  I'll  admit  this  sounded  weird 
to  me  at  the  beginning,  but  now  I'm  sorry  I  can't 
help  you." 

"Exactly  why  not?" 

"I'll  tell  you  why,"  she  said.  "I'm  going  away 
167 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

with  another  man  to-morrow.  It's  the  kind  of 
berth  I've  been  looking  for  for  a  long  time.  He's 
well-fixed  and  in  the  theatrical  game.  I'll  have  all 
I  can  ask  for — and  all  sorts  of  chances  on  the  stage. 
Second-rate  vaudeville,  maybe;  but  that's  a  big 
time  better  than  the  kind  of  stuff  I  used  to  do, 
which  was  anything  from  rough-house  dancing  to 
snake  charming.  Pearls  round  my  neck  now  in 
stead  of  snakes.  He's  across  the  street  now — 
swearing  blue  murder  and  wondering  what  be 
came  of  me — but  that  don't  matter.  When  it 
comes  to  minutes  I  can  stall  him  off.  But  days — 
that's  out  of  the  ring.  I've  kept  him  hopping 
three  days  overtime  already.  I  was  walking  time 
away  last  night  before  meeting  him,  when  I  ran 
into  that  mess,  and  believe  me,  there  was  some 
blow-up  when  I  did  get  him.  He's  leaving  for  the 
Coast  to-morrow  on  movie  stuff,  and  I  have  to  go 
with  him.  If  I  don't — well,  frankly,  Mr.  Comlough 
— the  chance  won't  come  hunting  up  little  Ethel 
again." 

She  rose,  and  he  rose,  too.  There  seemed  noth 
ing  more  to  say.  Only  in  his  mind  some  words 
kept  ringing. 

"Certainly  there's  no  way  I  could  ever  pay  you 
168 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

back" — it  was  Ethel  Pearson's  voice  speaking  in  his 
memory — ' '  If  ever  there  could  be  I'd  do  about  any 
thing  to  prove  to  you  what  a  real  sport  you  were ! " 

"You  don't  love  him  either,  do  you? "  he  asked, 
out  of  no  particular  reason,  hiding  his  disappoint 
ment. 

She  laughed.  "Love!  He's  crazy  about  me — 
that's  enough." 

She  looked  up  at  him  sideways  in  the  hall,  her 
finely  penciled  brows  contracted  into  sharp  thin 
curves. 

"I'm  sorry — "  She  shook  his  hand  perfunc 
torily,  hesitated  for  a  moment,  shrugged  her 
shoulders,  and  ran  down  the  high  steps  ahead  of 
him,  and  across  the  street. 

He  walked  slowly  down  to  his  car.  He  got  in 
without  looking  across  the  street,  or  he  might  have 
seen  her  stop  on  the  threshold  of  the  entrance  to 
Maxim's  and  turn  to  watch  him.  She  stood  for  a 
moment,  biting  her  lips  and  twisting  her  fingers. 
He  noted  nothing,  fumbling  at  his  gears.  The 
engine  was  running,  he  swerved  slowly  in  a  sharp 
curve  to  avoid  the  rear  of  an  automobile  standing 
in  front  of  him.  A  figure  sped  across  the  street 
and  he  heard  something  strike  his  running  board. 

169 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Mr.  Comlough!"  a  woman's  voice.  "Drive 
to  the  corner,  quick!  He's  coming!  I'll  do  it  for 
you!" 

"Hold  fast ! "  he  said,  shooting  by  the  car  ahead. 

Around  the  corner  he  stopped. 

"No — I  guess  I  can't  let  you,  at  that,"  he  said. 
"I  have  no  right  to  muddle  up  your  life." 

"You  can't  stop  me  now!"  she  said,  opening  the 
door  and  getting  in  beside  him.  ' '  It  isn't  as  though 
I  was  crazy  about  him," — she  talked  rapidly, 
excitedly, — "but  even  that  couldn't  stop  me  now. 
If  I  didn't  help  you — say,  I  play  hunches — why, 
I  could  never  let  a  decent  white  man  do  me  a 
favor  again — see  ?  I  feel  that  way.  There's  noth 
ing  good  or  bad  you  get  that  you  don't  have  to  pay 
back  good  or  bad  for.  I  ought  to  know  that.  I 
forgot  it,  that's  all.  Drive  some  place  and  tell  me 
what  to  do.  I'm  game ! " 


170 


CHAPTER  XIII 

AT  a  quarter  to  eleven  one  morning  a  woman 
stepped  from  a  maroon  town  car  and  passed 
through  the  imposing  portal  of  the  Clinton  Loan 
and  Trust  Company.  She  sent  in  her  card,  upon 
which  was  engraved  in  shaded  old  English,  "Mrs. 
Roger  Warren  Shevlin."  Underneath  this  was 
written, ' '  Request  of  Oswald  G.  Velte. ' '  She  asked 
that  her  card  be  taken  to  the  vice-president  who 
was  in  charge  of  the  loan  department. 

She  was  the  type  of  woman  men  turn  to  gaze 
after;  women,  too.  She  was  one  of  whom  it  is  said 
that  she  is  gowned  or  garbed  rather  than  merely 
dressed.  From  the  tip  of  the  delicate  dart  in  her 
morsel-like  straw  turban  to  the  tip  of  the  small 
needle-pointed  black  satin  pumps — her  skirt  of 
Cheruit  twill  clinging  slightly  and  with  the  faintest 
concession  to  daring  in  brevity — she  was  at  once 
physical  feminine  perfection  and  allure.  Her  tight 
thin  black  veil  gauzing  her  face,  accentuated 
through  its  film  her  beauty,  rather  than  concealed 

171 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

it.  Men's  eyes,  after  taking  in  the  suave  rhythm 
of  her  figure,  were  apt  to  linger  on  the  tiny  em 
broidered  harlequin — the  single  decoration  on  her 
veil — which  she  wore  a  little  above  the  right  corner 
of  her  bow  mouth. 

Her  lips  were  rouged  with  art,  not  emphasis; 
there  was  just  the  necessary  quiver  in  the  fine 
curve  of  her  stenciled  eyebrows.  Her  cheeks,  even 
through  the  thin  black  veil,  were  tinctured  with 
what  might  have  been  the  healthful  flush  of  out 
doors. 

A  philosopher,  seeing  her  and  knowing  her, 
would  have  deduced  from  her  the  generalization 
that  women  are  artists,  creating  and  everlastingly 
re-creating  the  unique  masterpieces  of  themselves. 
In  a  week  Ethel  Pearson  had  done  wonders  with 
herself. 

There  was  nothing  of  Estelle  de  Courtney  left 
about  the  desirable  woman  of  refinement  who 
waited  for  the  word  to  enter  Lynn's  office.  Com- 
lough  had  told  her  in  a  general  way  the  kind  of 
impression  she  was  to  make  on  Lynn ;  took  her  to 
several  elite  shops ;  gave  her  a  few  suggestions,  but 
permitted  her  to  outfit  herself  mainly  according 
to  her  intuition,  appreciating  the  actress  and  the 

172 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

mannequin  in  her.  He  had  sent  her,  with  a  com 
panion  who  passed  as  her  sister  and  a  maid,  to 
Lakewood,  with  instructions  to  stay  out  in  the  air 
all  day,  and  develop  a  natural  substitute  for  the 
undue  amount  of  rouge  she  seemed  to  believe  she 
required.  The  day  before  he  had  driven  to  Lake- 
wood  and  thence  with  her  and  the  two  other 
women  to  an  appropriate  cottage  in  Allenhurst  on 
the  coast.  Installed  there  as  Mrs.  Roger  Warren 
Shevlin  and  her  sister,  he  had  left  them  and  ar 
rived  home  in  time  to  get  Glenn's  call.  Their  con 
versation  was  brief. 

' '  Get  ready ! "  he  had  said  to  Glenn.  "Any  day 
now." 

The  next  day — that  morning — she  had  come  to 
New  York  as  Mrs.  Roger  Warren  Shevlin,  of 
Allenhurst,  and  taken  rooms  at  the  Plaza. 

She  waited  in  the  little  anteroom  to  Lynn's 
office  a  few  minutes  before  he  came  out  to  her. 
Oswald  G.  Velte  was  an  old  and  valued  client  of  the 
bank's.  Comlough  knew  him;  knew,  too,  that  he 
was  in  Europe.  There  was  no  doubt  about  it, 
however,  that  Lynn's  intense  cordiality  of  greet 
ing,  despite  his  murmured  reference  to  Mr.  Velte, 
was  for  her  rather  than  for  the  stumpy  old  mer- 

173 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

chant  with  mutton-chop  whiskers  and  credit  in 
the  Clinton  Loan  and  Trust  Company  reaching 
to  seven  figures. 

"Mr.  Velte  is  a  very  old  friend  of  ours,"  she 
said.  "A  very  old  friend.  This  is  Mr.  Lynn,  I 
believe.  I  am  Mrs.  Shevlin,  Mr.  Lynn,"  she  said, 
repeating  what  he  already  knew,  as  she  seated 
herself  easily  in  the  chair  drawn  up  to  his  desk. 
She  smiled  at  him  through  her  veil. 

A  faint  gleam  of  appreciation  lighted  Lynn's 
eyes  in  response  to  her  smile.  He  regarded  her 
with  a  kind  of  eager  passiveness.  He  was  not 
crude — she  saw  that  instantly. 

"Yes — Mrs.  Shevlin?"  he  said  quietly. 

She  seemed  to  have  a  little  difficulty  in  stating 
her  errand.  A  most  charming  hesitancy;  and  she 
seemed  to  appeal  to  him  for  assistance  in  expres 
sion.  Being  a  gentleman,  he  naturally  desired  to 
help  her.  She  saw  at  once  that  was  her  cue — to  let 
him  help  her,  as  much  as  he  desired.  Very  shortly, 
as  she  bent  closer  to  him,  he  seemed  to  desire 
greatly.  She  told  him  that  while  she  had  come 
on  business,  she  had  never  meddled  with  business 
before.  Father  always  attended  to  that  first,  she 
said,  with  pretty  irrelevancy;  then  her  husband. 

174 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Now  her  husband  was  away — and  this  great 
opportunity  had  come.  Her  husband  was  away 
and  would  not  return  for — ah,  ever  so  long !  And 
now  there  was  this  business  to  attend  to.  She 
sighed  and  looked  at  him  seriously  a  moment  be 
fore  she  smiled  again.  He  leaned  slightly  nearer; 
her  husband  being  away  and  not  likely  to  return 
for  a  long  time,  and  there  being  this  business  to 
attend  to  which  she  would  now  explain,  he  prob 
ably  felt  he  should  lean  a  little  nearer.  It  was 
oil. 

Lynn  gave  a  start,  which  she  did  not  notice. 
Her  husband  was — well — she  wished  to  talk 
frankly — Mr.  Lynn  would  certainly  appreciate  her 
position.  Her  husband  was  a  globe-trotter.  She 
almost  feared  he  had  gone  to  Africa,  she  had  not 
heard  from  him  now  for — let's  see,  it  was  early  in 
April  when  she  got  her  last  letter  from  him.  Then 
he  was  in  Curacao.  He  had  mentioned  Africa 
then — in  a  jesting  way;  but,  she  told  Lynn  this 
earnestly  and  with  a  little  bitterness,  he  thought, 
which  heartened  him,  you  know,  he  being  a  man 
with  the  so-called  male's  sense  of  protecting  un 
protected  women — that  her  husband  could  always 
be  relied  upon — the  only  time,  evidently — to  do 

175 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

what  he  jested  about  doing.    There  was  nothing  to 
expect  from  the  man  when  he  was  serious. 

Well,  it  seems  her  husband  had  first  mentioned 
oil  investments  in  Ecuador,  and  told  her  to  talk 
to  Mr.  Velte  and  a  Mr.  Ainslee.  Mr.  Ainslee  was 
now  in  South  America,  but  he  had  written  her  of 
the  wonderful  opportunities  of  the  Duryea  and 
Pearce  holdings  there.  She  had  property  and 
certain  negotiable  stock,  upon  which  she  wished 
to  borrow  money.  She  thought  perhaps  the  bank 
would  give  her  advice  on  the  value  of  those  oil 
things  in  Ecuador  and  tell  her  how  much  to  put 
into  them,  and  whether  it  was  entirely  safe.  Of 
course,  she  had  some  money — but  then  everything 
was  so  high,  and  one  did  want  variety  now  and 
then — merely  to  stave  off  boredom — she  looked 
appealingly  at  Lynn  when  she  said  boredom,  as 
though  the  bank  and  he  might  give  her  advice  in 
disposing  of  that,  too,  in  the  most  gilt-edge  man 
ner.  So,  well,  it  was  desirable  to  turn  money  into 
more  money.  He  understood,  did  he  not?  Lynn 
thought  he  did,  very  well.  She  was  bored  and 
lonely.  It  is  a  normal  masculine  inclination  to 
do  away  with  both  of  these  states  when  a 
pretty  woman  requests  it.  That  husband!  To 

176 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

leave  a  woman  like  this  alone,  and  go  trapesing 
off  through  the  world.  Africa!  Fantastic  busi 
ness!  There  was  something  mock  heroic  about 
Africa. 

He  might  have  told  her  that  it  was  not  the  busi 
ness  of  a  bank  to  advise  its  clients  upon  the  nature 
of  their  speculations — decidedly  not.  That  upon 
presentation  of  proper  security  a  bank  would  be 
willing  to  advance  moneys  at  a  respectable  rate  of 
interest,  and  after  that  had  no  interest  at  all  in 
what  dispositions  were  made  of  those  moneys. 
He  might  have,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind. 
She  was  too  attractive. 

He  said  it  would  be  a  pleasure  for  him  to  investi 
gate  the  character  of  the  Duryea  and  Pearce 
holdings.  When  would  she  care  to  come  in  again? 
She  protested  daintily  at  appropriating  his  valu 
able  time.  He  assured  her  with  something  like 
ardor  that  that  was  his  purpose  and  reason  of 
being,  to  devote  his  time  to  her — that  is,  to  the 
bank's  customers'  interests.  Well,  then,  let  her 
see — she  had  some  shopping  to  do  and  some  other 
matters  to  attend  to — but  would  to-morrow  morn 
ing  be  convenient  to  him  ?  It  would. 

She  went  out,  telling  him  first  she  was  staying 
177 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

at  the  Plaza;  leaving  a  faint,  seductive  scent  of 
perfume  in  his  office. 

"Good.  Call  him  up  to-morrow  and  tell  him 
you  can't  come.  Next  day,  perhaps,"  Comlough 
said  when  she  gave  him  the  facts  of  her  visit  to 
Lynn. 

A  few  minutes  later  Comlough  went  to  meet 
Lynn  at  luncheon,  and  they  talked  of  his  plans 
freely,  as  usual.  He  made  a  point  of  seeing  Lynn 
almost  every  day.  When  he  had  shaken  hands  in 
parting  from  him,  he  always  had  the  impulse  to 
go  and  wash  his  hands. 

"Has  Brownlow's  plant  turned  out  any  more 
samples?"  Comlough  asked  Glenn  vaguely,  when 
the  latter  called  up  that  night  at  the  appointed 
time. 

"Three  more  in  this  afternoon." 

"How  are  his  wares — on  the  old  pattern?" 

"Yes." 

"Can  you?" 

"Can  try." 

They  understood  each  other  perfectly. 

"Go  up  to  our  prospect's  home  to-night  again, 
Was  he  in  last  night?" 

178 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"I  passed  by  and  there  was  a  light  in  his  study." 
"Keep  on  your  toes,"  said  Comlough. 
"I'll  do  that,"  said  Glenn. 

The  next  afternoon  a  messenger  brought  Mrs. 
Shevlin  three  sheets  of  memoranda  upon  Duryea 
and  Pearce,  and  other  financial  suggestions.  Also 
a  note  expressing  sentiments  of  hope  that  Mrs. 
Shevlin  was  quite  well  again,  and  expectant  delight 
at  her  possible  visit  to  Mr.  Lynn's  office  the  next 
day. 

"Go,"  said  Comlough  that  night.  He  examined 
the  sheet  of  oil  stock  notes  carefully.  "You re 
member  the  names  I  gave  you — DePinna,  Magda- 
lena  holdings,  Porter — Long  Horn  and  Lone  Star 
Railroad,  Texcol  Oil  and  Asphalt  Corporation, 
and  the  rest  ?  Ask  him,  if  an  occasion  ever  seems 
to  make  the  question  absolutely  natural,  'What 
is  this  company  I  hear  so  much  of — the  United 
Americas  Petroleum  Consolidated?'  Remember 
what  he  says  of  any  of  these  things  if  talk  of  them 
occurs.  Don't  bring  them  up,  though.  If  they 
just  happen — good!  Never  forget,  he's  a  clever 
man." 

He  eyed  her  carefully,  abstractedly,  for  several 
179 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

minutes.  She  had  never  been  able  to  break 
through  his  detachment.  She  was  a  little  piqued 
at  his  aloofness — her  failure  to  touch  him  as  a  being, 
not  a  means.  She  found  herself  wondering  what 
the  other  woman  could  be  like — Lynn's  wife? 
Curiously  enough,  Comlough  was  thinking  of 
Marcia  then,  too.  He  was  thinking,  what  is  there 
in  men  that  can  make  one  of  them  with  the  best 
sort  of  antecedents,  who  is  bound  by  every  chain 
of  honor  and  loyalty  and  even  self-interest,  turn 
from  a  woman  like  Marcia  to  a  woman  like  this 
woman?  It  wasn't  a  question  of  morals  at  all — 
merely  one  of  fastidiousness. 

"Start  drawing  back  to  Allenhurst  to-morrow," 
he  said.  He  looked  at  her  closely,  studying  her. 
"Wear  your  blue  silk  to-morrow,"  he  said  at 
length. 

He  left  her  in  the  dining-room  of  Marquette's 
where  they  met  each  day,  as  upon  the  first  occasion. 

"Friday  night!"  Comlough  told  Glenn  over  the 
wire  that  evening.  It  was  Tuesday. 

Mrs.  Shevlin  appeared  in  the  office  of  the  vice- 
president  of  the  Clinton  Loan  and  Trust  Company 
in  charge  of  loans  at  precisely  eleven-thirty  the 
following  day.  She  appeared  in  blue.  She  had 

1 80 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

no  trouble  gaining  admittance  to  Mr.  Lynn's  office. 
In  fact,  the  vice-president  in  charge  of  loans  rather 
hurriedly  got  rid  of  an  old  and  valued  client — such 
as  Mr.  Velte  himself  might  have  been — in  order  to 
go  out  and  greet  Mrs.  Shevlin. 

Mrs.  Shevlin  was  easy  indeed  to  look  at  that 
morning.  A  caressingly  clinging  blue  silk  gowned 
her.  It  was  a  simple  seeming  thing,  that  frock; 
simple  with  all  the  Medean  simplicity  which  all 
the  ingenuity  of  a  French  modiste  had  designed 
through  bitter  hours  of  creative  frenzy,  in  order 
to  hide  its  real  complexity.  It  moved  with  her  in 
unrippled  pliancy;  its  folds  undulations  always, 
folds  and  creases  never;  marging  sleeves  and  vestee, 
some  creamy  sheer  fragility  of  delicacy  beyond 
organdie  or  georgette. 

She  returned  his  greeting  with  such  unconscious, 
spontaneous,  unfeigned  heartiness. 

"Why,  it  seems  we  are  old  friends,  Mr.  Lynn," 
she  exclaimed,  as  they  sat  in  his  office.  "Yours 
is  the  only  face  I  have  seen  twice  in  New  York,  I 
do  believe.  Oh,  so  beastly  lonely — this  town 
of  yours!" 

He  glowed  frankly  at  her  now;  inquiring  almost 
anxiously  how  she  felt;  expressed  his  regrets  that 

181 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

she  could  not  come  the  day  before,  and  in  the 
counter  exchange  of  courtesies  bordering  on  per 
sonalities,  it  was  a  drag  to  get  back  to  oil,  particu 
larly  as  they  were  leaning  toward  each  other  so 
that  he  caught  the  subtle,  provocative  perfume 
which  hung  about  her  like  the  daintiest  of  mists. 
In  fact,  they  didn't  get  back  to  oil.  They  went  to 
luncheon  together. 

Just  before  they  went  out  she  said  innocently: 

"Are  you  married,  too,  Mr.  Lynn?"  with  a 
commiserating  loitering  on  the  ' '  too. ' '  It  gave  him 
a  little  start. 

At  luncheon  she  made  several  other  casual  refer 
ences  to  his  wife,  which  Lynn  did  not  relish,  but 
which  served  to  bind  him  closer  to  her  than  if  she 
had  not  known  that  he  was  married.  She  seemed 
to  be  willing  to  grant  that  he  was  a  lonely  man  as 
she  was  a  lonely  woman,  and  he  was  willing  to  let 
it  go  at  that. 

When  he  returned  from  luncheon  with  Mrs. 
Shevlin,  Lynn  had  somehow  become  involved — 
pleasurably  so,  to  be  sure — in  a  drive  with  her 
later  in  the  afternoon.  He  had  hardly  sat  down 
in  front  of  his  desk — the  vision  of  the  woman  in 
blue  seated  across  the  short  white  lawn  of  the 

182 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Waldorf  table,  still  before  him — when  the  tele 
phone  rang.  It  was  Marcia.  He  gave  a  short 
start,  but  gripped  himself  at  once.  He  was  prone 
to  too  much  of  this  starting  lately ! 

It  was  the  simplest  of  wifely  greetings,  this  call 
of  hers.  The  children  were  well ;  they  loved  it  out- 
of-doors;  how  was  he  feeling?  she  missed  him; 
when  would  he  come  out — Saturday  or  Sunday? 
He  conquered  a  buzzing  excitement  in  his  mind. 
He  couldn't  promise  ahead — but  he  would  try. 
Try  what? — Why,  Saturday,  of  course! 

He  went  for  a  long  drive  with  Mrs.  Shevlin  that 
afternoon,  first  working  until  four  o'clock  fever 
ishly  on  some  notes  which  he  sent  to  an  obscure 
broker  named  Nolan  on  the  shoddy  end  of  Broad 
Street,  and  upon  two  long  letters  to  a  man  named 
Courtelyou  in  Washington,  and  Kilcairn  in  St. 
Louis,  and  upon  a  third  terse  communication  to 
W.  R.  R.  Yerger,  who  was  in  Houston.  Then  he 
broke  a  dinner  engagement  with  Comlough,  voic 
ing  a  series  of  pathetic  excuses  which  brought  a 
bitter  smile  to  Comlough's  lips. 

He  had  dinner  with  Mrs.  Shevlin  at  an  inn  out 
side  the  city,  and  they  parted  at  her  hotel  shortly 
after  ten. 

183 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

That  night :  ' '  Call  me  at  one-thirty  to-morrow, ' ' 
said  Comlough  over  the  wire;  "at  my  office." 

"Right,"  answered  Glenn. 

' '  Our  prospect  is  about  to  leave  town  for  a  short 
time." 

"One- thirty,  eh?"  repeated  Glenn. 

"One-thirty,"  repeated  Comlough. 

The  next  morning  Comlough  went  with  Mrs. 
Shevlin  from  Marquette's  to  that  place  which  is 
the  pride  of  all  New  Yorkers,  who  never  go  there — 
the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  He  took  her 
through  the  galleries  of  paintings  in  something 
over  an  hour.  He  gave  her  a  few  simple  instruc 
tions. 

"Lynn's  an  art  dilettante  himself,"  said  Com 
lough;  "and  what  collection  he  has  is  closer  to 
him  than  his  waistcoat.  Come  here  with  him  this 
afternoon.  Don't  tell  him  you  'love  art.'  Simply 
take  it  for  granted  that  he,  as  a  cultured  man,  is 
interested  in  painting,  because — well,  because  you 
are  interested,  being  a  cultured  woman.  Ask  him 
no  questions  on  art;  answer  none.  Don't  gush. 
Be  reserved.  Tell  him  you  want  to  see  only  three 
things — that  Char  din,  that  Diaz,  and  that  Winslow 

184 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

I  showed  you.  You  are  never  to  call  a  painting  a 
painting,  but  always  'a  thing.'  This  is  what  you 
are  to  say  of  each.  'One  Chardin — that  frying 
pan  and  slice  of  ham — is  worth  all  the  Millets  in 
the  world ! '  '  Diaz — there  was  a  philosopher  of  the 
brush !  He  could  turn  from  a  tree  to  a  ballet  girl 
without  getting  them  confused!'  'Winslow — I 
didn't  get  him,  as  they  say,  exactly  at  first — but 
now — do  you  know — well' — draw  breath  here 
— 'you  know  his  Florida  things,  of  course.  Do 
you  remember — or  can  you  help  remembering — 
those  flamingoes  ? ' 

"If  he  starts  on  any  particular  picture  strongly 
agree  with  reservations.  A  true  art  critic  is  known 
not  by  his  enthusiasms  but  by  his  reservations — 
remember  that.  Don't  voice  your  reservations, 
however.  Let  him  feel  you've  got  a  taste  of  your 
own  merely.  Never  endorse  a  whole  picture, 
that's  the  safest  way.  Go  up  to  one  and  pick  out 
some  spot  or  corner.  The  spot  or  corner  that  looks 
least  interesting  to  you,  is  a  conservative  rule. 
Point  to  it — stand  before  it  silently — step  back 
and  look  at  it  through  half -closed  eyes  and  say  in 
a  low  voice:  'Isn't  that  an  extraordinary  bit  of 
color — just  that  bit  there? '  Look  at  it  again  for  a 

185 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

minute  and  turn  to  him  and  say :  '  But  how  many 
paintings  are  there,  really?  Paintings,  I  mean,  not 
just  perfect  corners  or  spots  on  paintings?  Whole, 
completed  paintings?  How  many  are  there, 
after  all?'" 

He  soberly  instructed  her  in  the  jargon  and  had 
her  repeat  it  to  him.  She  was  an  apt  mimic  of 
human  attitudinizing  and  a  perfect  actress  for 
tones.  As  she  stepped  back  from  him  and  said: 
"But,  Mr.  Lynn — after  all,  how  many  paintings 
are  there — real  things,  that  is — not  just  exquisite 
corners  and  parts — ?"  Comlough  regarded  her 
gravely. 

"And  you  would  have  been  satisfied  with  second- 
rate  vaudeville!"  he  said  solemnly.  "What  a 
waste!" 

"Well,"  she  said,  "one  always  learns.  I  never 
thought  I'd  take  a  course  in  fine  arts  first,  though, 
to  get  a  guy  looney  about  me.  Weird  stuff ! " 

"On  the  contrary,  this  is  the  last  word  in  mod 
ernity,  my  dear,"  said  Comlough  gently.  "This 
is  what  is  known  as  esthetic  vamping.  It  is  a 
variant  of  the  old  game  of  understanding,  and  all 
the  rage  now.  You  really  have  to  suspect  every 
couple  that  go  into  an  art  gallery." 

1 86 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Some  place! "  she  murmured  as  they  came  out, 
breathing  freer.  ' '  You  could  spend  a  week  in  there 
and  not  see  it  all!" 

"Spend  a  week  in  there!"  he  exclaimed,  as 
tonished.  ' '  My  dear  Miss  Pearson,  you  have  been 
in  there  an  hour  and  you  are  now  qualified  to  pass 
on  art." 

Thursday,  one-thirty  in  the  afternoon. 

"Call  me  this  time  to-morrow  also,"  said  Com- 
lough  over  the  wire  to  Glenn.  ' '  Any  news  ? ' ' 

"Kirk  is  a  watchman  on  this  plant.  He  said 
that  he  cannot  get  off  to  tend  to  that  business 
between  seven  and  eight  in  the  evening,  but  after 
eight  he's  free  for  about  an  hour  or  so." 

"Very  well,  we  shall  have  to  accommodate  him. 
I  am  fairly  sure  that  we  won't  want  to  see  him  to 
morrow  night.  I  am  certain  our  prospect  will  leave 
town  then.  Do  you  think  you  will  be  ready  to 
show  me  those  goods  by  then?" 

"Yes." 

"Call  me  here  in  the  office  at  one-thirty  to 
morrow." 

"Right!" 


187 


CHAPTER  XIV 

FRIDAY  morning,  in  Marquette's. 

"He  is  going  to  drive  to  Allenhurst  with  me 
this  afternoon,"  she  said  to  Comlough,  her  eyes 
glittering.  "Right  after  lunch.  It  was  a  cinch. 
Art  did  it.  Say,  he's  pretty  much  of  a  dog,  isn't 
he?  I  prefer  my  vaudeville  magnate,  at  that!" 
she  said  with  a  laugh.  "Poor  dear,  do  you  think 
he's  lonely  way  out  there  in  Hollywood — I  shall 
announce  to  you  that  he's  not!"  She  looked 
quizzically  at  Comlough.  "Is  Lynn's  wife  very 
beautiful?"  she  asked. 

He  looked  away  and  then  placidly  at  her.  She 
was  quite  earnest  about  the  question,  not  just 
curious. 

"Very,"  he  said  quietly. 

"I  hope  you  win  her,"  she  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper. 

For  the  first  time  they  went  out  of  Marquette's 
together.  She  had  to  hurry  to  her  engagement 
with  Lynn;  he  had  one  with  Hargreave.  As  he 

1 88 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

took  her  to  her  taxi  a  man  passing  by  stopped 
short  and  stared  at  them.  He  was  stumpy  and 
stout.  His  bushy  eyebrows  stood  out  like  eaves 
over  bulgy  eyeballs — two  round  colorless  eyeballs 
which  had  a  kind  of  shrewd  absorbent  gleam  in 
them.  He  turned  abruptly  away  and  walked  on  in 
a  roly-poly  fashion. 

Where  had  he  seen  that  fellow  before  ?  It  puzzled 
Comlough  and  haunted  him  intermittently  on  his 
way  to  Hargreave's.  As  he  entered  the  famous 
building  of  the  banker's  he  suddenly  recollected. 
He  had  passed  the  little  roly-poly  man  one  day  on 
the  threshold  of  Lynn's  office — that  day  of  the 
stolen  bag.  He  was  relieved  at  having  placed  him. 

"We  haven't  got  hold  of  this  fellow  Yerger 
yet,"  said  Hargreave.  "But  the  figures  of  that 
man  Courtelyou  are  not  to  be  thought  of.  Ten 
millions!" 

About  the  same  time  that  Hargreave  was  telling 
Comlough  that  Courtelyou's  valuation  of  Texcol 
Oil  and  Asphalt  was  absurd,  a  short  round  man 
with  protruding  colorless  eyeballs  came  out  of  a 
telephone  booth  in  a  Sixth  Avenue  cigar  store, 
having  failed  to  get  Mr.  Lynn,  of  the  Clinton  Loan 
and  Trust  Company,  on  the  wire. 

189 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"In  conference  with  Mr.  Vandermeer,"  the  bank 
telephone  operator  had  informed  him.  "He  will 
be  free  in  a  few  minutes." 

He  was  the  obscure  broker  Nolan.  He  knew 
Comlough  well  by  sight,  although  the  latter  did 
not  know  him,  and  the  woman  he  had  just  seen 
coming  out  of  Marquette's  with  Comlough,  he 
had  seen  on  two  occasions  recently  with  Lynn. 
He  was  one  of  the  underground  grubs  of  the  Street 
and  Curb.  For  all  his  distended  girth  and  his 
roly-poly  air  he  could  make  faster  pace  through 
the  mold  of  intrigue  after  stray  tips,  cashable 
secrets,  and  financial  fodder  of  one  sort  and  another 
than  the  mole  through  the  soil  of  a  cornfield. 
Something  in  his  instinct  for  intrigue  told  him  now 
to  inform  Lynn  that  the  stunning-looking  woman 
— she  was  stunning,  even  Nolan  could  see  that — 
was  a  friend  of  Comlough's.  Lynn  ought  to  know 
that.  He  had  not  been  able  to  get  Lynn  on  the 
telephone,  therefore  he  would  complete  his  busi 
ness  up  on  Thirty-seventh  Street,  which  would 
only  take  a  few  minutes,  go  downtown  again  and 
tell  Lynn  personally. 

When  he  came  to  the  bank  Lynn  had  gone. 

"Mr.  Lynn  won't  be  back  until  to-mor- 
190 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

row   or    maybe    not    until    Monday,"   said   the 
attendant. 

Something  like  dismay  took  hold  of  Nolan.  He 
roly-polied  to  his  obscure  office  on  the  shoddy  end 
of  Broad  Street.  A  message  from  Lynn  was  wait 
ing  for  him. 

Will  call  you  between  seven  and  eight  to-night  at 
Greenpoint.  Kilcairn  wire  R4 ;  Ry ;  R7a.  See  Courtel- 
you.  In  from  Washington  this  afternoon. 

It  was  from  Lynn,  although  signed  Yarnall. 
Nolan  lived  in  Greenpoint.  Lynn  had  recently 
found  it  convenient  to  talk  to  him  there  in  the 
evenings.  Nolan  evidently  understood  what  the 
submarinish  items  signified  and  began  to  act  out 
orders.  He  shook  his  head  dubiously.  Where  was 
Lynn  off  to  at  this  time?  He  didn't  like  this  busi 
ness  of  the  woman  with  Comlough  and  Lynn.  He 
was  shrewd  enough  to  see  the  difference  between 
Comlough  and  Lynn  in  regard  to  women.  He 
thought  Lynn  ought  to  know  right  away  that 
Comlough  knew  that  woman.  But  he  couldn't  tell 
him  right  away,  because  he  didn't  know  where  he 
could  reach  Lynn.  However,  when  he  called  up 
between  seven  and  eight  that  night  he'd  tell  him. 

191 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Nolan,  methodical  in  his  obscure  way,  made  a 
note  of  it  on  his  pad. 

"Tell  Y.  of  worn.,"  he  wrote  down  in  his  rolling 
handwriting,  something  like  his  roly-poly  walk. 

Just  at  this  time  Comlough,  who  had  met  Glenn 
in  Whyte's  at  two  o'clock,  was  leaning  across  the 
table  toward  his  companion. 

"To-night  at  eight,  then?"  he  said. 

Glenn  nodded. 

"It  looks  easy  to  you  now?"  asked  Comlough, 
eyeing  him  closely. 

"I've  seen  the  surest  tricks  fluke,"  said  Glenn 
tersely. 

"So  have  I,"  agreed  Comlough  soberly.  "If  I 
guessed  wrong — if  something  slips  up — there  may 
even  be  fireworks." 

Glenn  met  his  look  steadily,  that  was  all.  He 
was  not  a  talking  man.  Comlough  was  heart 
ened  by  that. 

"Don't  forget  to  get  a  pair  o'  gloves,"  was  all 
Glenn  said.  ' '  Thin  silk's  best. ' ' 


192 


CHAPTER  XV 

Two  men  separated  at  the  corner  of  Sixty-sixth 
Street  and  Fifth  Avenue  shortly  after  eight  o'clock 
in  the  evening.  One  walked  with  a  loping  stride 
rapidly  east  on  the  south  side  of  Sixty-sixth  Street. 
There  was  a  slight  bulge  over  his  inner  coat  pocket. 
The  other  man  strolled  leisurely  up  Fifth  Avenue 
and  east  on  Sixty-seventh  Street.  By  the  time  he 
reached  Madison  Avenue  the  first  man  had  twice 
passed  a  severe  Colonial  apartment  house  on  the 
north  side  of  Sixty-sixth  Street  next  to  a  finely 
mannered  four-story  brick  dwelling  with  marble 
facing  and  two  entrances.  One  was  a  deep,  wide 
New  England  doorway,  with  a  polished  knocker, 
and  threshold  on  the  level  of  the  sidewalk.  The 
other  was  the  servants'  entrance,  a  half  dozen 
steps  down,  and  narrower.  The  house  was  dark 
from  top  to  bottom.  Dwelling  and  apartment 
house  stood  midway  in  the  block  between  Fifth 
and  Madison  Avenues. 

The  second  man  came  down  Madison  Avenue 
13  193 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

to  Sixty-sixth  Street,  hesitated  a  moment,  and 
walked  west  on  the  north  side.  An  automobile 
drove  up  and  a  man  and  woman  entered  the  apart 
ment  house.  He  struck  briskly  and  diagonally 
across  the  street,  and  had  almost  reached  Fifth 
Avenue  again  when  the  first  man  rematerialized  out 
of  the  shadows  on  the  south  side,  crossed  the  street 
also  and  quickly  entered  the  apartment  house,  too. 
The  second  man  now  sauntered  down  Fifth 
Avenue  and  walked  east  on  Sixty-fifth  Street,  and 
presently  he  came  round  the  block  into  Sixty- 
sixth  from  Madison  again.  A  woman  was  hasten 
ing  toward  Fifth  Avenue.  Otherwise  the  street 
was  dark,  dignified,  and  deserted.  As  he  strolled 
west  on  the  north  side,  just  in  front  of  the  residence 
beside  the  apartment  house  his  shoe-string  must 
evidently  have  become  untied,  because  he  bent 
over  as  though  to  tie  it.  A  thin  sliver  of  light 
marked  the  threshold  of  the  big  white  door  just 
for  a  moment.  He  suddenly  straightened  and  in 
three  steps  was  in  the  spacious  shade  of  the  portal. 
He  pushed  slightly  against  it.  It  gave  noiselessly 
to  his  pressure.  The  next  instant  he  was  inside. 
The  door  shut  silently  behind  him.  Someone 
gripped  his  arm. 

194 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Come  back  a  bit — we  don't  want  to  use  any 
light  here." 

"Anybody  see  you  next  door?" 

' '  No.    Hopped  the  fence — a  cinch. ' ' 

They  came  to  a  stairway.  Comlough  took  the 
electric  torch  from  Glenn  and  shot  a  peg  of  light 
on  it. 

' '  Up ! "  he  whispered. 

As  they  reached  the  top  he  gave  a  slight  start. 
The  Sevres  clock  in  the  music-room  chimed  once 
for  eight-thirty.  Half  a  hundred  miles  away,  in 
the  house  of  Mrs.  Roger  Warren  Shevlin  in  Allen- 
hurst,  New  Jersey,  the  vice-president  of  the  Clin 
ton  Loan  and  Trust  Company  in  charge  of  loans 
was  just  hanging  up  a  telephone  receiver,  after  a 
short  conversation  with  a  gentlemen  in  Greenpoint, 
Kings  County  or  Greater  New  York,  named 
Nolan.  It  had  taken  him  almost  an  hour  to  get 
Mr.  Nolan  on  the  wire ;  less  than  a  twentieth  part 
of  it  to  conclude  his  conversation  with  him.  The 
sharp  feminine  ears  in  the  next  room  trained  on 
Lynn's  part  of  the  conversation  heard  little  more 
than:  "Yes — yes — no — no!  Is  that  so?"  He 
never  held  himself  better  in  hand  than  in  the  first 
thirty  seconds  of  that  conversation. 

195 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Nolan?"  he  had  said. 

"Yes — Mr.  Yarnall?"  answer.  In  Greenpoint, 
Kings  County,  Nolan  was  looking  at  a  pad  in  front 
of  him. 

"Mr.  Yarnall,  first  I  want  to  tip  you  off  about 
something  funny,"  he  had  said.  "Where  are 
you?"  he  suddenly  asked. 

"Out  of  town  with  some  friends. — Yes?" 

"You  know  the  other  day  I  saw  a  woman  com 
ing  out  of  your  office." 

Oddly  something  in  Lynn's  chest  tightened. 

"Yes?"  he  forced  himself  to  say  indifferently. 

"She  was  a  pippin!"  volunteered  Mr.  Nolan 
gratuitously. 

"Yes?"  coldly. 

"  Well — this  noon  I  saw  her  coming  out  of  a  place 
on  Thirty-eighth  Street  with  Comlough." 

For  a  second  Lynn  did  not  answer.  He  was 
staring  into  a  blindly  dazzling  spot  ahead. 

"Are  you  sure?"  he  asked  slowly,  steadily. 

"Sure — say,  d'ye  think  I'd  ever  mistake  her? — 
More'n  that,  I  went  up  there  late  this  afternoon 
and  inquired,  and  she's  been  meeting  him  there 
about  every  day." 

Lynn  was  still  staring  fixedly  ahead,  but  the 
196 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

dazzling  spot  had  formed  into  a  shining  steel  sphere 
about  three  feet  in  diameter,  mounted  on  a  solid 
iron  base  in  his  study. 

"Thought  I'd  pass  it  on  to  you  for  what  it  was 
worth,"  Nolan  said. 

"Certainly — thanks."  He  focused  his  atten 
tion  nearer.  "About  that  R4 — what's  the  news 
about  that?"  he  forced  himself  to  say. 

There  had  followed  a  lot  of  unheard  talk  from 
Nolan,  punctuated  by  curt,  meaningless  mono 
syllables  and  terse,  meaningless  phrases  from  Lynn. 
He  had  hung  up  the  receiver.  Far  away  in  his 
music-room  the  Sevres  clock  was  chiming  once  for 
half-past  eight.  For  a  moment  he  stood  motion 
less,  getting  a  grip  on  himself.  He  still  saw  his 
gleaming  steel  ball  of  a  safe  in  front  of  him.  He 
walked  leisurely  into  the  other  room  where  Mrs. 
Roger  Warren  Shevlin,  reclining  lazily  in  a  deep 
soft  chair  by  the  unlighted  fireplace,  looked  en 
ticingly  up  at  him.  He  rubbed  his  hands  with  a 
quiet  air  of  satisfaction. 

"Now,"  said  Lynn  patteringly,  "that's  settled! 
Nothing,  as  they  say  in  the  Street  when  a  lamb  has 
been  shorn,  to  do  until  the  bear  season  opens." 

"Sounds  frightfully  technical,"  she  crooned. 
197 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

He  lowered  himself  luxuriously  into  another  deep 
soft  chair  opposite  Mrs.  Shevlin,  crossing  his  long 
legs  and  smiling  contentedly  at  her.  He  clamped 
his  hand  suddenly  to  his  side,  as  though  he  had  a 
pain,  and  sat  bolt  upright. 

"  Oh,  rot ! "  he  muttered  angrily.  "  Not  a  cigar ! 
Cigars,  of  course,  you  haven't  got,  Mrs.  Shevlin?" 
he  asked  hopefully,  gazing  across  at  the  small 
table  on  which  stood  an  alabaster  box  filled  with 
gold-lettered  cigarettes. 

Mrs.  Shevlin  looked  her  regrets,  a  little  taken 
back. 

"So — sorry,  Mr.  Lynn!  I  thought  you  smoked 
only  cigarettes?" 

"Not — not  in  the  evening.  Well,  that's  some 
thing  we've  got  to  correct  instanter.  Care  to  walk 
down  to  the  village  with  me?" 

She  smiled  up  at  him  languidly. 

"Take  the  car — I'll  be  here  when  you  come  back 
— I  won't  run  away  from  you,"  she  purred  coyly. 

"But  I  might  from  you,"  he  said. 

Her  eyes  went  sleepily  up  to  his. 

"Not  a  chance!"  they  said. 

"Wicked,  wicked  Mr.  Lynn  even  to  say  such  a 
thing!"  her  lips  reproved  insinuatingly. 

198 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

He  bent  over  her,  touching  her  shoulder  lightly. 

"Call  me  Evans!"  he  said.  For  a  moment  he 
stood  bending  over  her,  his  face  close  to  hers. 
He  straightened  abruptly  and  went  out  to  get  her 
car,  and  his  cigars. 

Unfortunately  in  his  comprehensive  instructions 
to  her  Comlough  had  failed  to  mention  this  now 
important  trifle.  Lynn  never  smoked  cigars,  day 
or  night. 

He  reached  the  railroad  station  in  her  car  at 
8 : 43.  In  three  minutes  a  train  for  New  York  was 
due. 

And  now  that  profound  perversity  of  luck  which 
sticks  deranging  fingers  into  men's  affairs  and  rail 
road  schedules  hit  Lynn  hard.  Word  came  down 
the  line  from  Bradley  Beach  that  there  had  been 
an  accident  and  the  road  was  tied  up.  He  felt  a 
chill,  despite  the  warm  May  night.  The  safe  was 
still  before  his  eyes.  But  his  nerve  held.  He  could 
make  New  York  in  three  and  a  half  or  four  hours 
in  the  automobile,  he  thought.  Fortunately  he 
knew  the  roads.  But  he  could  not  leave  his  house 
unguarded  that  long. 

He  telephoned  to  Hempstead.  He  was  lucky 
in  getting  the  connection  quickly,  too.  Marcia 

199 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

answered.  Her  voice  steadied  him,  and  then  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life  Evans  Lynn,  like  many 
another  man  who  has  dropped  the  gold  of  life  to 
pick  up  the  brass,  was  struck  with  a  sudden  sense 
of  irremediable  loss.  He  belonged  to  that  exten 
sive  class  of  persons  who  never  really  understand 
any  act  of  their  own  until  they  see  the  consequences 
of  it. 

"Send  Martin  to  the  house  with  the  roadster," 
he  said  to  Marcia.  "Tell  him  to  wait  inside  for 
me.  Send  him  right  away — dear ! " 

She  asked  him  if  anything  was  wrong.  No,  he 
replied  curtly,  for  the  second  time  in  his  life  at 
least  unable  to  weave  explanatory  plausibilities — 
that  ridiculous  stall  about  the  cigars  haunted  him. 
But  always  the  picture  of  his  safe  put  sand  on  his 
acquired  glibness.  He  repeated  simply  that  Mar 
tin  should  bring  the  keys  and  let  himself  into  the 
house  at  once.  He  wanted  someone  in  the  house 
as  soon  as  possible.  He  hung  up  and  went  out  to 
the  automobile.  Irony!  He  was  about  to  get 
into  the  car  when  a  far  whistle  sounded  through 
the  lovely  May  night  and  down  the  line,  its  sar 
donic  eye  seemingly  cognizant  of  the  harrowing 
trick  it  had  played  on  him,  came  the  New  York 

200 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

train!  Savagely  regretting  having  called  up 
Marcia,  he  left  Mrs.  Shevlin's  automobile  uncere 
moniously  standing,  and  boarded  the  train,  which 
should  bring  him  to  New  York  at  about  eleven. 


201 


CHAPTER  XVI 

COMLOUGH  and  Glenn  worked  round  to  the 
stairway  leading  to  the  second  floor,  the  flash 
light  slapping  its  blue-grey  shaft  at  the  darkness. 

"UpP'saidComlough. 

They  reached  the  third  landing. 

"Almost  there,"  he  whispered.  He  had  no 
definite  sensations.  He  was  like  a  cool  supercrust 
holding  down  a  whole  spasm  of  them.  As  they 
made  their  way  through  rooms  the  sudden  soft 
plashings  of  the  torch  seemed  to  cast  magic-lan 
tern  disks  of  revelation  on  grotesquely  familiar 
surroundings.  He  had  a  sense  of  tingling — almost 
pleasurable — a  sense  of  getting  to  an  objective 
through  danger.  They  crossed  the  soft  library 
carpet  and  pushed  through  the  portieres  into  the 
room  adjoining  Lynn's  study.  The  door  of  the 
study  was  closed.  Comlough  cast  the  torchlight 
on  the  knob. 

"Wait  a  minute  there!"  said  Glenn,  as  he  was 
about  to  grip  the  knob.  "I've  seen  this  fellow 

202 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

before.  He's  got  an  alarm  detachment  there." 
He  took  the  light  from  Comlough.  ' '  I  thought  so, ' ' 
he  said  after  examining  it  closely.  "He's  prob'ly 
got  his  safe  alarm  and  his  current  on  the  same  line. 
Wait  here." 

He  moved  away  softly,  the  flashes  of  the  torch 
against  the  carpet  indicating  his  whereabouts  until 
he  passed  through  the  door  and  out  into  the  hall. 
He  was  gone  a  long  time,  it  seemed  to  Comlough. 
He  could  not  detect  the  faintest  sound  of  him. 
Through  the  silence  and  darkness  from  far  below 
came  nine  silvery,  diminutive  chimes.  A  moment 
later  a  grey  fan  of  light  protruded  beyond  the  black 
edge  of  the  open  door  to  the  hallway,  and  Glenn 
was  beside  him  again. 

"All  right,  let's  go!"  he  whispered. 

He  passed  the  dark  torch  to  Comlough  and 
occupied  himself  with  the  lock  in  the  utter  dark 
ness.  Comlough  heard  a  faint  scratching  and 
ticking  of  metal  on  metal.  Two  minutes  could  not 
have  gone  by,  and  the  door  was  open. 

"Throw  the  flash  on  the  floor — close  to  it!" 
Glenn  said.  Comlough  did  so.  "That  it?" 
Comlough  saw  his  arm  extend  like  a  huge  block  of 
shadow  toward  a  dull  gleaming  globe. 

203 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"Yes." 

"Put  out  the  light!"  Comlough  did  so,  won- 
deringly.  "He  left  the  blinds  and  a  window  up. 
I'U  fix  it." 

"Time  doesn't  enter  into  this,"  said  Comlough. 
"You  can  go  slow  and  careful — we've  got  ten 
hours  anyhow." 

"I  found  it  a  helluva  good  rule  myself  to  get  a 
job  done  and  to  get  away,"  answered  Glenn. 

He  was  over  by  the  windows  the  next  moment, 
doing  something,  Comlough  could  not  see  or  hear 
what;  wending  among  the  unaccustomed  sur 
roundings  with  a  sureness  that  Comlough,  for  all 
his  own  acquaintance  with  the  place,  could  never 
have  duplicated.  In  fact,  what  chiefly  struck  Com 
lough  was  his  fundamental  ignorance  of  these  fam 
iliar  rooms — the  incredible  strangeness  of  them  now. 

Suddenly  a  circle  of  light  struck  brightly  on  the 
grey  rug  in  the  center  of  the  study.  Through  it 
shone  the  steel  ball  of  the  safe.  Glenn  had  brought 
Lynn's  conical  desk-lamp  down  to  the  floor.  He 
took  off  his  coat,  extracting  a  slender  bundle  of 
tools  wrapped  in  a  blue  felt  cloth  from  the  inside 
pocket.  He  laid  the  coat  carefully  before  the  safe 
and  knelt  on  it.  He  patted  his  gloved  fingers,  took 

204 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

a  watchmaker's  lens  out  of  a  waistcoat  pocket  and 
screwed  it  into  his  right  eye.  Slowly  and  deli 
cately  he  ran  a  small,  pointed  tool  over  the  smooth 
convexity  of  steel.  His  fingers — those  fingers  of 
his  with  eyes  in  them — even  through  his  gloves 
seemed  arched  in  a  kind  of  palpitating  sensitive 
ness  over  the  tool.  His  head  was  tilted  backward, 
looking  at  the  ceiling.  In  the  reflection  of  the 
light  from  the  floor  he  resembled  some  Indian  seer 
exploring  the  feel  of  a  great  crystal  before  losing 
his  gaze  in  it.  He  rose  and  tapped  over  the  whole 
exposed  surface  of  the  safe.  He  took  the  torch 
from  Comlough  and  explored  it  again  with  eye  and 
tool.  Comlough  watched  him,  fascinated. 

"Some  nut!"  said  Glenn  softly,  appreciatingly. 

"Can  you  do  it?"  Comlough  asked,  anxiously. 

Glenn  did  not  answer.  He  followed  the  hairline 
of  the  circular  door.  Then  he  took  a  metal  rod 
about  a  foot  long  from  the  bundle  and  gently 
tapped  the  safe  along  the  line  of  its  opening,  and 
about  the  disk  and  the  levers.  Slowly  and  pains 
takingly  he  turned  the  disk,  listening  to  it.  He 
took  out  a  stethoscope,  attached  it  to  his  ears  and 
again  listened  to  the  tumblers.  In  the  shadows  his 
face  took  on  a  mysterious,  profound  raptness,  like 

205 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

that  of  some  mystical  worshiper  in  an  Oriental 
grotto.  About  all  his  movements  there  was  a  deft, 
perfect  poise — a  marvelous  coordination  of  pur 
pose  and  method. 

Minute  after  minute  went  by,  as  with  a  chilled 
meticulousness  Glenn,  that  Mac  McDevitt,  the 
Tiger  with  Mystic  Fingers  of  police  calendars  of 
bygone  days,  whirled  the  disk,  listened,  tapped, 
reset  the  disk,  whirled  again — now  tentatively, 
now  confidently,  now  testingly,  doubtfully  now; 
confidently  again  and  expectantly — now  unex- 
pectantly.  Minute  after  minute  passing,  as  he 
paused  to  tap  and  to  listen,  unhurried  always, 
but  always  nevertheless  imparting  a  sense  of 
swiftness.  Minute  after  minute,  and  the  safe 
continued  to  stand  mockingly  solid,  intact,  shut. 

Downstairs  the  little  Sevres  clock  sent  up  to 
them  its  faint  tinkle  of  nine- thirty,  ten,  ten-thirty. 
Comlough  held  himself  rigid.  His  body  ached 
with  the  strain  of  it.  His  spirit  grappled  with 
impatience. 

"Some  nut!"  repeated  Glenn  softly  once,  sit 
ting  down  for  a  moment  and  wiping  his  forehead 
and  neck.  "The  gloves'll  have  to  come  off,"  he 
said  slowly,  gloomily. 

206 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

He  cleaned  his  fingers  carefully  with  a  fresh 
handkerchief  and  gently  rubbed  a  few  drops  of  a 
fluid  from  a  tiny  yellow  phial  on  them.  He  rose, 
stretched  himself,  and  waggled  his  hands  loosely 
from  his  wrists.  He  knelt  before  the  safe  again. 

Suddenly  at  the  end  of  a  series  of  faint  whirlings 
and  clickings  a  slightly  louder,  victorious  click 
sounded  in  the  room  with  the  effect  of  a  shot.  A 
circle  of  the  surface  rose,  lifting  a  pillar  of  shadow 
with  it,  about  two  inches,  with  a  winding  motion 
as  though  unscrewing  itself.  Comlough  leaned 
forward,  his  pulse  banging.  A  moment  later,  as 
though  no  mystery  of  steel  could  hide  its  secrets 
longer  from  him,  Glenn,  again  wearing  gloves,  had 
turned  the  circle  of  the  surface  on  its  invisible 
hinge  as  Lynn  had  done.  The  blank  wall  of  copper 
stretched  across  the  opening. 

The  Sevres  clock  downstairs  chimed  eleven  as 
he  slid  the  copper  door  apart,  after  repeatedly 
manipulating  the  levers  and  the  disk  and  one  of 
the  hinging  pins.  The  individual  disks  to  the 
compartment  locks  were  child's  play  to  him  now. 
He  had  them  open,  every  one,  within  five  minutes. 

Comlough  straightened  himself  with  a  great 
intake  of  breath.  It  seemed  he  had  not  breathed 

207 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

for  hours.  Glenn  calmly  tied  his  tools  in  the  blue 
cloth,  stuffed  them  into  the  inside  pocket  of  his 
coat,  and  stood  up.  He  mopped  away  the  minia 
ture  beads  of  perspiration  from  his  face,  and  slowly 
put  on  his  coat.  Then  painstakingly  he  examined 
the  floor  about  the  safe  and  satisfied  himself  that 
he  had  left  neither  mark  nor  thing,  and  carefully 
wiped  the  surface  of  the  safe  with  his  handkerchief, 
moistened  by  several  drops  of  the  fluid.  Turning, 
he  clasped  the  hand  Comlough  held  toward  him 
without  a  word. 

"Any  more  use  for  me  ? "  he  asked  finally. 

"None,"  said  Comlough. 

"Good-night,"  he  said,  as  though  they  were 
separating  at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  Forty- 
second  Street  at  midday. 

"Good-night,  Joe,"  said  Comlough. 

Noiselessly  he  went ;  noiselessly,  like  a  tiger  in  a 
strange  jungle  which  a  certain  super-feline  instinct 
makes  as  familiar  to  him  as  his  own  hunting 
grounds,  Glenn  drifted  through  the  dark  reaches 
of  Lynn's  home  and  out  into  the  open  night. 

Comlough  searched  through  the  main  and  cen 
ter  compartment  of  the  safe  first.  It  contained 
a  collection  of  deeds,  mortgages,  documents  of 

208 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

sundry  legal  and  propertied  aspect.  Nothing 
pertaining  to  oil.  One  by  one  he  went  through 
the  compartments,  and  one  by  one  the  papers 
they  contained.  And  one  by  one  he  found  the 
things  he  was  looking  for. 

There  was  a  memorandum  of  five  loans  Lynn 
had  recently  issued  at  the  bank,  ranging  in  sums 
from  $150,000  to  $630,000  to  borrowers  named 
W.  R.  R.  Yerger,  Timothy  Kilcairn,  Oliver  Hill 
Courtelyou,  W.  R.  R.  Yerger,  and  Horace  Miller. 
There  were  notes,  letters,  documents,  deeds, 
guarantees,  ownership  papers,  stock  certificates, 
telegrams — everything — relating  to  and  compris 
ing  Magdalena  River  leases  and  concessions,  Lone 
Star  Railroad,  Maracaibo  Lake  Basin  properties, 
Texan  Improvement  and  Petroleum  Corporation, 
Utopian  Oil  Corporation.  Things  and  informa 
tion  invaluable  enough  to  him,  Comlough  found, 
as  he  fluttered  his  way  through  compartment 
after  compartment  of  that  safe,  each  adding  an 
other  chapter  to  the  story  of  the  secret  intent  of 
the  man  he  had  saved,  who  had  sworn  to  help  him 
in  any  hour  of  need,  who  had  undermined  him. 
Most  of  the  things  he  came  upon  he  merely  glanced 
at  and  tossed  upon  the  growing  pile  beside  the 
u  209 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

safe,  casually,  with  no  emotions  whatever.  Now 
and  again  something  came  to  hand  which  hurt. 
For  example,  references  to  matters  he  had  divulged 
to  Lynn  incorporated  in  letters  written  to  the 
latter's  assistants,  copies  of  which  Lynn  had  kept. 
Actually  quoting  him  in  several  instances.  The 
most  recent  only  a  few  days  before,  when  Lynn, 
imagining  him  still  in  the  dark  about  the  bag  and 
knowing  him  to  be  still  agonized  over  his  loss,  had 
pumped  him,  as  he  believed,  at  luncheon,  and 
written  Courtelyou  immediately  thereafter : 

C.  just  told  me  C.  M.  [Colonel  Maurice]  would 
certainly  go  as  steep  as  $7,500,000.  Hold  to  $10,000,- 
ooo  until  Monday  morning.  But  by  2  P.M.  Monday 
we  must  have  sold.  Every  day  is  going  to  make  it 
riskier  for  us  to  hold  on. 

Monday!  But  it  was  in  the  last  compartment 
of  all  that  he  found  something  which  gave  him  a 
real  start.  It  was  a  map  which  had  been  torn 
into  small  pieces  and  fitted  together  like  a  jigsaw 
puzzle,  and  then  mounted  on  tough  bookbinding 
linen. 

It  was  the  sketch  of  the  Estacado  which  he  had 
made  for  Lynn  that  night  here  in  this  room — on 
Lynn's  desk :  made,  explained,  torn  up,  and  thrown 

2IO 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

into  the  wastepaper  basket.  And  Lynn  had  gath 
ered  up  the  pieces  out  of  the  basket — after  he  had 
come  home  with  the  contents  of  Comlough's  bag, 
probably — no,  it  must  have  been  in  those  minutes 
he  was  out  of  the  room  presumably  instructing 
Timmins  to  call  Ralston  and  have  Ochia  bring  the 
bag  to  the  station.  Somehow,  that  little  patched- 
together  sketch  hurt  Comlough  more  deeply  than 
all  the  rest  of  the  evidence  of  Lynn's  treachery. 

Assuring  himself  that  there  was  nothing  which 
he  had  overlooked,  he  stacked  the  pile  beside  the 
safe  neatly,  for  a  moment  studying  it  with  a  kind 
of  absent  intentness — so  intent  that 

"Hello!"  a  voice  said  in  the  silence. 

He  clutched  the  papers,  whirled  round  and 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  faced — standing  in  the  door 
way — Lynn ! 

Lynn  was  white — so  white  that  his  face  stood  out 
like  a  tombstone  in  the  moonlight  in  the  semi-dark 
ness.  Curiously  it  was  not  the  fact  that  Comlough 
had  found  what  he  had  found,  but  that  someone 
could  have  opened  his  safe,  obviously  without 
violence,  that  had  shaken  Lynn  as  nothing  had 
ever  shaken  him  before.  He  pushed  his  hands  into 
his  pockets  and  strolled  toward  Comlough. 

211 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"You  do  the  impossible!"  he  said.  "This  must 
be  an  old  profession  of  yours." 

Comlough  straightened  the  papers  in  his  hands, 
put  them  under  his  arm,  reached  down,  picked  up 
the  lamp  and  set  it  back  upon  the  desk.  No  need 
for  semi-darkness  longer.  He  walked  over  and 
turned  on  the  corner  ceiling  lights. 

"I'm  no  piker,"  he  admitted  then.  "You  find 
me  at  the  end  of  a  perfect  day,  my  old  friend;  a 
considerable  job  rather  neatly  disposed  of — not 
in  a  hotel  room  looting  a  bag  snatched  from  a  Jap 
in  a  railroad  station." 


212 


CHAPTER  XVII 

LYNN  sat  down,  his  fingers  convulsively  clasping 
the  arms  of  the  chair.  His  voice  was  quite  steady. 
The  iron  nerve — infinitely  more  iron  than  on  that 
night  when  he  had  come  to  Comlough  for  help — 
the  nerve  which  had  carried  him  out  of  Allenhurst 
and  the  smiles  of  Mrs.  Shevlin,  still  held  him  up. 

"No,"  continued  Comlough  easily,  as  though 
Lynn  had  spoken  again,  "you  mustn't  speak 
lightly  of  our  profession.  It's  an  old  one.  We  at 
the  top  of  it  never  knife  our  friends  in  the  back." 

He  held  out  the  pieced-together  map  which  he 
had  drawn  for  Lynn.  Lynn  waved  it  wearily 
away,  tearing  with  perceptible  effort  his  hands 
from  the  armrests  of  his  chair,  and  then  clasping 
them  under  his  chin.  Curiously,  a  great  part  of 
Comlough's  positive  feelings  in  regard  to  Lynn  had 
passed ;  replaced  by  the  negative  ones  of  cold  con 
tempt,  loathing  so  great  that  it  was  almost  indiffer 
ence.  He  had  accomplished  his  mission.  It  was 
all  over,  on  that  side. 

213 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

"I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  to-night,"  he  said 
slowly. 

"No.  I  suppose  your  lady  operative  is  just 
about  wondering  now  whether  you  do,"  said  Lynn, 
almost  absently. 

"However,  as  you  are  here " 

' '  No — no !  No  talking, ' '  said  Lynn,  with  a  tired 
wave  of  his  hand.  "No  talking.  What  do  you 
want  to  do?" 

Comlough  regarded  him  curiously  for  a  moment. 
Lynn  made  no  attempt  to  evade  his  eyes.  Com 
lough  thought  he  had  never  seen  anyone  so  utterly 
fatigued. 

' '  This, ' '  he  said.  He  went  to  the  desk  and  wrote. 
"A  transference  of  all  this  back  to  me." 

"I  lose!"  said  Lynn  quietly. 

"Honor,  self-respect,  every  claim  to  decency, 
everything  in  God's  world  worth  a  man's  while  to 
fight  for.  Yes — you  lose!" 

Lynn's  lips  drew  together  straight.    He  rose. 

"Oh,  hell,  Comlough — why  take  yourself  so 
damned  seriously!  Because  I  wasn't  grateful? 
Stop  fooling  yourself.  You  know  you  didn't  help 
me  out  in  the  first  instance  for  my  sake — you  did 

it  for  Marcia.    Marcia  and  you " 

214 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Lynn  stopped.  Comlough  had  very  lightly 
grasped  his  elbow;  but  it  was  his  eyes  with  their 
sudden  mysterious  absence  of  all  expressiveness 
which  really  silenced  Lynn. 

"I  wouldn't  say  anything  more,  if  I  were  you," 
he  said.  ' '  I  believe  the  customary  procedure  after 
that  type  of  innuendo  is  one  of  the  major  forms  of 
assault;  but  to  show  you  I  don't  take  myself  too 
damned  seriously,  after  all — well,  it's  not  worth 
discussing,  is  it  ?  We  have  had  altogether  twenty- 
odd  years  of  friendship.  It  shows  how  little  one 
can  learn  of  a  man  in  a  lifetime  if  one  has  a  talent 
for  not  learning.  I  don't  suppose  pounding  you 
into  pulp  now  would  make  up  for  my  own  lack  of 
perception  in  the  past." 

He  stood  aside  and  motioned  Lynn  to  the  desk. 
Lynn  sat  down  behind  it  and  picked  up  a  pen. 
He  dipped  it  into  the  inkwell  and  slowly  tried  the 
wet  nib  on  a  pad.  He  shot  a  covert  glance  at 
Comlough.  He  reached  down  at  one  side  of  the 
desk  and  opened  a  drawer.  The  next  moment  he 
was  standing  behind  the  desk.  His  right  arm  was 
extended  at  Comlough.  In  his  hand  was  a  squat- 
nosed  automatic. 

"Give  it  all  up — now?  You  came  in  here  to 
215 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

crack  my  safe — it  was  dark — I  shot — I  killed  you ! " 
he  said  excitedly,  his  eyes  blazing  with  the  insane 
fascination  of  a  way  out.  "Killed  you — see!  Swear 
to  me  you'll  drop  all  this — swear  you'll  leave  it  all 
the  way  it  is,  and  I  won't  shoot!  Swear — swear!" 

Comlough  looked  Lynn  in  the  eyes. 

' '  Lynn ! "  he  said  quietly.  ' '  Lynn,  you're  point 
ing  that  gun  in  the  wrong  direction." 

The  other's  arm  grew  taut,  and  the  automatic 
began  to  waver  in  an  unsteady  grip. 

"  Oh!"  said  Lynn  softly.  "  Oh!  "  He  shook 
his  head  as  though  to  free  it  from  some  cob 
webby  entanglement.  "No — of  course  not.  You 
wouldn't  knuckle  under.  .  .  .  Oh !"  he  repeated 
softly,  and  sat  down. 

His  words  and  the  intensity  of  his  insane  glare 
alike  seemed  to  wander  off  into  space.  The  re 
volver  drooped  in  his  fingers;  he  raised  it  with  an 
effort  and  dropped  it  on  the  desk-pad  in  front  of 
him,  and  his  head  fell  forward  in  his  hands.  He 
sat  there — his  arms  propped  on  his  elbows,  his 
head  in  his  hands — for  some  profound,  stark 
minutes.  Downstairs  the  little  Sevres  clock 
chimed  midnight. 

All  his  life  Comlough  was  to  hear  that  clock — 
216 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

those  elfin  drifting  chimes  winging  through  the 
dark  spaciousness  of  the  house.  The  thought 
trailed  through  his  mind,  as  he  grew  conscious  of 
its  chiming  now,  that  he  had  not  missed  one  of 
its  hourly  or  half -hourly  tinklings  since  half -past 
eight.  Dainty  echoes  of  its  midnight  call  sounded 
for  several  minutes  in  his  ears,  and  as  he  watched 
the  cowed  figure  of  the  man  who  had  been  his 
friend,  Lynn  raised  his  head.  He  was  not  looking 
at  Comlough;  he  was  staring  straight  ahead,  va 
cantly,  as  though  the  full  force  of  his  vision  were 
straining  inward. 

"You  do  love  Marcia — you  do — don't  you?" 
Lynn  asked. 

Comlough  started.  But  in  Lynn's  voice  now 
had  crept  a  solemn  although  fantastic  earnestness 
which  took  out  of  the  question  every  possible  in 
nuendo  of  stricture  or  judgment.  It  was  just — a 
question ;  just,  at  the  same  time,  an  icy  statement 
of  a  fact.  "Don't  you?"  he  repeated. 

In  his  heart  something  like  the  following  leaped 
up  in  answer : 

"Love  her?  Of  course  I  love  her!  All  my  life 
I  loved  her — and  lived  as  though  she  loved  me!" 
But  with  his  lips  Comlough  said  nothing. 

217 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

Lynn,  glaring  straight  ahead,  gave  an  almost 
imperceptible  nod — like  a  faint,  quickly  checked 
start. 

"Life — ugh!  it's  hell,  eh,  what!"  he  said  slowly. 
He  rose.  As  he  did  so  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand 
came  in  contact  with  the  revolver.  They  curled 
about  it.  He  picked  it  up  and  then  thrust  both 
hands  deep  into  his  coat  pockets.  He  took  his  left 
hand  suddenly  out  again  and  leveled  it  at  Com- 
lough,  pointing  stabbingly  at  his  breast.  He  took 
a  step  nearer. 

"I  can  read  you,  Comlough,  to  the  deepest  re 
cesses  of  your  heart!"  he  shouted.  "If  I  saw  just 
a  fleck  of  sanctimoniousness  or  pity  for  me  there, 
I  could  shoot  you !  I  see  you  through  and  through, 
Comlough!  Love  her?  Of  course  you  love  her! 
All  your  life  you  have  loved  her,  and  lived  as 
though  she  loved  you — perhaps  she  did !  Lived  at 
least  as  though  you  were  bound  together  by  your 
honor,  if  not  by  her  love!" 

Comlough  started  at  the  clairvoyance  in  his  eyes 
and  words. 

"And  now  you're  going  after  what  you  missed, 
because  you  earned  it — earned  it  by  integrity,  by 
self-respect,  by  years  of  the  desolation  of  lacking 

218 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

her!"  Lynn  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed 
wildly,  tapping  his  chest  with  his  fingers. 

"Life— oh,  it's  hell— hell!  God,  the  fool  mad 
ness  of  it !  You  go  round  the  world  straight  up  and 
clean  with  the  thought  of  her,  a  thousand  miles 
from  her ;  and  I — alongside  her — with  her  always — 
go  trailing  through  the  muck!" 

His  head  fell  until  his  chin  rested  almost  on  his 
chest.  He  swayed  a  little.  His  voice  sank  into  a 
hoarse  whisper. 

"I'd  hate  to  look  into  a  mirror  this  minute. 
Any  minute! — And  you  can't  dodge  mirrors  all 
your  life,  can  you?" 

He  pulled  himself  together  and  abruptly  sank 
down  behind  his  desk  again  and  began  to  write. 
He  wrote  feverishly  for  perhaps  ten  minutes.  He 
finished  and  read  over  what  he  had  written;  rose 
again  and  gave  several  sheets  to  Comlough. 

"There — there's  the  whole  business.  Your 
leases  and  options,  holdings,  stocks,  plans,  hopes 
and  dreams  and  everything!"  he  said  wearily. 
His  head  again  fell,  as  though  he  held  it  up  only 
by  frightful  effort.  "Oh,  God— the  mess  of  it!" 
he  muttered.  ' '  Marcia ! ' ' 

Again  he  swayed  a  little.  Comlough  thought  he 
219 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

would  fall.  But  the  next  moment  he  straightened 
bolt  upright.  He  had  heard  it  before  Comlough. 
Downstairs  a  door  slammed.  Footsteps  sounded. 
A  voice  that  caught  both  men  round  the  breast 
arrowed  up  through  the  dark  corridor  spaces  to 
them. 

' '  Evans !  Evans — ! ' '  called  Marcia.  ' '  Are  you 
upstairs?" 

Comlough  saw  Lynn's  right  hand  grow  rigid 
within  his  coat  pocket. 

"Tell  her — tell  her  everything!"  he  whispered 
fiercely  at  Comlough.  "Tell  her — everything!" 

He  turned  and  was  out  of  the  room  before  Com 
lough  could  stir. 

"Evans!"  again  her  call — nearer. 

He  crammed  the  writing  Lynn  had  given  him 
into  his  pocket,  and  the  papers  he  had  taken  from 
the  safe  into  one  of  the  desk  drawers,  and  went  to 
the  door. 

"Up  here  —  !  It's  I,  Marcia— Cooper!"  he 
called. 

She  came  hurriedly  in,  breathing  rapidly,  un 
doing  a  veil. 

"What  is  it? — Evans  telephoned.  Something 
is  wrong — I  could  tell  it  in  his  voice.  Martin  and 

220 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

I  rushed  here,  but  we  had  a  breakdown.  What  is 
it,  Cooper?" 

From  a  distant  room  came  a  single  muffled 
knock,  like  a  hammer  driving  short  and  viciously 
against  a  board  wrapped  in  a  blanket.  The  blood 
ebbed  out  of  her  cheeks.  He  felt  his  own  pulse 
falter,  and  cold  lay  on  his  spine. 

"Wait  here,  Marcia!"  he  commanded,  and 
rushed  out  of  the  room. 

He  had  the  electric  torch,  but  in  spite  of  it  he 
stumbled  against  furniture  and  over  rugs  in  his 
dash  in  the  direction  whence  that  one  vicious  short 
bang  had  come.  Eventually  he  reached  Lynn's 
bedroom.  A  pencil  of  light  lay  under  the  door. 

He  got  in.  Lynn  was  lying  face  down  across  his 
bed.  Beside  him  on  the  floor  was  a  litter  of  torn 
papers.  In  that  desperate  instant,  even,  Com- 
lough  saw  the  blue  shreds  of  a  note  in  the  hand 
writing  of  Ethel  Pearson — the  handwriting  of 
Mrs.  Roger  Warren  Shevlin.  And  other  feminine 
handwriting.  Torn  bits  of  a  photograph.  Hardly 
knowing  why  he  did  it,  he  stooped  and  hurriedly 
gathered  up  blue  bits  and  photograph  bits  and  the 
rest  and  thrust  them  into  his  pocket.  And  then 
he  saw  a  piece  of  white  paper  with  something 

221 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

written  on  it,  lying  beside  Lynn  on  the  bed,  held 
down  by  Lynn's  uncovered  fountain-pen.  He 
picked  it  up.  It  read: 

Last  will  and  testament  of  Evans  Sargent  Lynn: 
I  leave  the  muddle  of  my  affairs  to  Cooper  Comlough, 
Esq. 

"Oh!"  he  heard  behind  him.  "Oh!"  repeated 
Marcia,  as  she  brushed  by  him  and  sank  on  the 
bed  beside  Lynn. 


222 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

' '  TELL  her  everything ! ' ' 

He  had  intended  to  do  so  before  Lynn  gave  his 
command.  Even  as  he  came  to  Lynn's  room  and 
saw  him  lying  on  the  bed,  explanatory  words  to  her 
framed  themselves  in  his  mind — words  tempered 
with  a  certain  appropriateness  to  the  events. 
There  is  a  spectator  side  to  all  men;  a  misnamed 
spectator  side  which  imagines  the  r61e  it  would  act 
in  given  circumstances  and  goes  through  with  an 
unseen  succession  of  heroic  gestures  and  straight 
forward  speaking  even  while  the  visible  actor 
falters  through  generally  in  no  heroic  fashion 
whatever. 

"Marcia,"  he  had  dramatized  himself  as  say 
ing,  looking  at  his  hands,  hardly  daring  to  look 
into  her  eyes,  "what  I  am  going  to  say  now  is 
dangerous,  perhaps,  at  this  moment ;  but  I  cannot 
play  the  hypocrite  in  funereal  airs  when  I  really 
feel  as  though  a  pool  of  bitterness  was  seeping  out 
from  within  me,  and  letting  daylight  and  sunlight 

223 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

in  again. ' '  He  imaginatively  waved  his  hand  in  the 
direction  of  the  room  in  which  Lynn  was  lying — 
for  somehow  he  pictured  the  conversation  taking 
place  in  the  study.  "The  danger  is  that  when  a 
man  or  woman  wishes  not  to  be  paltry  or  narrow 
or  false;  when  a  man  or  woman  wishes  calmly  to 
regard  things  broadly  and  without  mentally  side 
stepping  legitimate  personal  considerations — re 
fusing  to  be  switched  from  what  they  believe  to 
be  the  right  road — why,  the  danger  is  that  it  may 
mean  only  that  the  man  or  the  woman  has  become 
selfish,  blind,  callous.  Therefore,  I  am  going  to 
give  myself  and  you  time  to  judge  of  these  per 
sonal  considerations.  I  do  not  think  that  he," — 
he  had  paused  in  his  imagination  and  again  made  a 
slight  gesture  toward  the  room  where  Lynn  lay, — 
"matters.  I  think  what  he  has  just  done  settles 
things  as  far  as  he  is  concerned.  He  was  my 
friend — my  best  friend  once,  and  yet  now  I  am 
broad  enough  to  say  that  what  he  has  just  done 
was  the  best  thing  he  could  have  done.  I  do  not 
think  I  am  callous  to  feel  that  way.  Nevertheless, 
I  am  going  to  give  us  time  to  think  it  all  out.  I 
have  waited  so  long,  Marcia,  it  will  not  seem  too 
hard  to  wait  a  while  longer.  When  May  swings 

224 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

round  again  with  the  full  swing  of  spring  and  lots 
of  roses  and  a  new  sort  of  life,  I  am  coming  back, 
Marcia.  I  shall  settle  things  up  here ;  get  this  end 
of  United  Americas  straightened  out,  and  then  I 
am  going  out  to  the  fields  to  get  things  started  in 
the  way  I  have  dreamed  of  starting  them.  And 
then — when  May  swings  round  again — I  am  com 
ing  back!" 

So  the  arrogant  spectator  within  him.  But  they 
had  not  been  in  Lynn's  study,  but  there  together 
in  Lynn's  bedroom.  The  sentimental,  rhetorizing 
heroics  of  the  spectator  Comlough  had  fallen  be 
fore  the  simple  instincts  of  actual  man — before 
the  brutal  reality  that  there  on  the  bed  lay  the 
man  who  had  been  his  friend. 

"I  leave  the  muddle  of  my  affairs  to  Cooper 
Comlough!" 

Comlough  looked  out  of  the  train  window  at 
the  delicate  etcher's  dusk  of  the  New  Jersey 
meadows. 

It  was  May  again,  come  round  with  the  full 

swing  of  spring  and  lots  of  apple-blossoms  and  a 

new  sort  of  life,  in  truth.  They  had  left  Manhattan 

Transfer  and  in  a  few  minutes  would  plunge  into 

13  225 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

the  tube  and  moments  later  he  would  be  in  the 
signorial  station. 

He  was  neither  glad  nor  sorry  he  had  acted  as 
he  had  acted — it  was  simply  impossible  for  him 
to  have  done  otherwise.  He  had  not  told  her 
everything — he  never  would. 

Ethel  Pearson  was  on  the  stage  now.  He  had 
seen  to  it  that  she  had  obtained  her  real  chance  at 
last.  Marcia  would  never  learn  from  her.  Glenn 
had  been  in  Texas  and  South  America  with  him 
during  the  past  year,  and  was  in  Mexico  now. 
Out  of  that  taciturn  being  no  hint  would  ever  come 
to  Marcia  of  what  had  taken  place  in  her  home 
that  night.  Yet,  oddly  enough,  he  had  kept  those 
things  from  her  not  for  her  sake,  but  actually  for 
Lynn's  sake.  That  was  strange.  Feeling  neither 
good  nor  otherwise  about  it  he  had  thought  of  it 
many  times.  One  or  two  looks  she  had  given  him; 
one  or  two  inflections  of  her  speech  had  almost  led 
him  to  believe,  at  times,  when  he  thought  it  over, 
that  she  surmised  a  great  deal  of  the  truth  con 
nected  with  Lynn's  suicide.  But  why  had  he  been 
so  solicitous  about  Lynn's  reputation  after  his 
death?  Old  association,  perhaps.  The  tradition 
of  the  race,  perhaps — ' '  Of  the  dead  ye  shall  speak 

226 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

no  evil!" — except  that  he  had  never  been  one 
to  respect  traditions  when  they  failed  to  match  up 
with  his  sense  of  fitness,  or  justice,  or  truth.  He 
had  smoothed  out  the  muddle  of  Lynn's  affairs: 
protected  those  loans  from  the  bank;  protected 
Marcia's  interests  and  the  children's. 

The  train  dived  into  the  tube.  Five  minutes 
later  he  was  shaking  both  her  hands  at  the  top  of 
the  stairs  leading  from  the  tracks,  where  she  had 
waited  for  him. 

The  same  Marcia,  and  yet  never  the  same !  His 
dreams  of  her  never  somehow  achieved  the  miracu 
lous  reality  of  her.  There  had  been  times  in  his 
life  when  he  could  not  keep  inner  fires  from  sud 
denly  splashing  their  lights  into  his  eyes  when  he 
looked  at  her.  This  was  one  of  them. 

Her  quiet  woman's  beauty,  infinitely  more 
appealing  to  him  now  than  the  beauty  of  her  girl 
hood;  her  clear  skin;  the  wise  humor  of  her  eyes; 
the  exquisite  simplicity  of  her  garb,  which  sym 
bolized  so  featly  the  simple  exquisiteness  of  her 
spirit!  Fresh  and  cool,  valiant  and  wise;  endowed 
with  unerring  perceptions,  gifted  with  a  sort  of 
understanding  grace  of  mind — the  same  and  yet  a 
different  Marcia  gave  him  both  her  hands  without 

227 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

a  word,  merely  a  straight,  long  look.  Somehow  at 
that  moment,  in  a  flash  of  rare  insight,  he  had  a 
sense  of  her  loneliness  with  Lynn;  shut  out  from 
the  real  life  of  her  husband.  Lynn  had  been  es 
sentially  a  secretive  man,  rather  than  an  aloof  one. 

Ochia  had  come  to  New  York  with  him  and  was 
already  on  the  way  home  with  the  baggage.  Little 
fear  that  ever  again  a  bag  would  be  stolen  from 
him.  Ochia  now  traveled  armed  with  the  exact 
change  to  meet  any  emergency. 

Comlough  drove  with  her  to  the  house  on  Sixty- 
sixth  Street. 

He  had  felt  through  the  last  eight  months  in 
South  America  and  the  southwest  that  the  instant 
he  saw  her  again  he  must  involuntarily  tell  her 
what  he  had  dreamed  of  daytimes  amidst  the  stren 
uous  going  forward  of  his  projects,  and  thought  of 
at  night  when  he  lay  awake.  Night  thoughts  and 
day  dreams!  They  had  even  been  stronger — 
those  thoughts  of  the  night  and  dreams  of  the  day 
unconnected  with  his  schemes — because  they  had 
not  kept  him  from  pushing  on  in  his  work  with  a 
holy — unholy — zeal.  But  now  no  such  words  came 
to  tell  her.  No  mention  had  he  ever  made  of  the 
thing  he  had  come  back  to  tell  her.  He  felt  that 

228 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

she  knew.  She  must  know.  He  had  felt  that. 
And  now  he  was  not  so  sure. 

Again,  as  on  that  eventful  May  night  twelve 
months  before,  he  went  with  her  to  the  children's 
room  when  they  dallied  bedwards  after  dinner. 
He  came  back  to  the  library  first,  where  she 
rejoined  him. 

"And  now,"  she  said,  gravely  smiling,  "about 
your  work.  Tell  me  about  it." 

He  told  her  then — the  thing  he  wanted  most  to 
tell  her  right  behind  his  words,  straining  to  get  into 
speech.  He  told  her  of  his  railroading;  the  Red 
Basin  Dam ;  the  men  he  had  collected — he  touched 
the  romance  of  railroads,  supply,  shops,  electric 
plants,  labor,  water,  drilling,  storing — all  the  pre 
parations  for  handling  a  product  which  is  of  greater 
intrinsic  worth  than  the  output  of  all  the  minerals 
from  gold  and  silver  to  platinum — a  product  with 
over  three  hundred  by-products. 

"It  is  fine,  Cooper — utterly  fine!"  she  said  once. 

Gradually,  as  he  talked,  there  rose  before 
Marcia's  eyes  his  visible  dream  of  bigness  and 
order,  purpose,  vision  achieved  and  service  down 
there  beside  riverbank  and  on  the  range,  through 
sand  and  rock,  with  men  and  life.  Like  an  in- 

229 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

effable  peace,  the  solace  of  her  understanding 
wrapped  round  him.  Simply  and  naturally  at  last 
he  took  her  hand. 

"Marcia — come  with  me,  Marcia!  Help  me. 
It  is  big — this  giving  warmth  and  light  and  power 
to  men,  helping  them  to  move  from  corner  to 
corner  of  the  world,  making  existence  easier  and 
pleasanter  by  what  we  do.  Doing  all  this  not  for 
ourselves,  but  for  strangers  really.  We're  in  a  new 
time,  and  we'll  practice  what  people  are  preaching 
— cooperation.  We'll  let  in  the  world  on  the 
ground  floor  of  our  prosperity,  from  the  heads  to 
the  hunkies  digging  the  ditches  that  our  pipes  are 
going  to  lie  in — the  hobos  and  tramps  and  outlaws 
and  dips  and  riffraff  that  filter  down  through  the 
Panhandle  looking  for  a  truck-driving  job  and 
getting  it — we're  going  to  let  them  all  in,  Marcia, 
because  men  must  get  something  more  out  of  our 
dreams  than  their  wages.  God  grant  you  and  I 
can  do  our  little  bit  to  help  ease  the  tension  of  the 
world;  to  blunt  the  edge  of  hate  and  take  a  bit  of 
the  sharpness  out  of  the  bitterness  in  men. 

"Sometimes  I  think  the  war — four  years  of 
massacre  and  hell — has  gone  for  nothing!  God — 
think  of  that!  All  that  red  hell  passing  over  us 

230 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

and  at  the  end  of  it  we  haven't  even  been  in  purga 
tory!  It  was  force  within  the  law — legalized 
might,  that  ran  things  before  1914.  Now  its 
de-legalized  force.  Was  our  law  all  wrong — too 
narrow? — or  what?  Was  it  too  loose,  and  will  it 
have  to  be  tightened?  But  the  world  must  be  let 
in  on  the  good  things — the  world  and  the  crowd, 
because  we'll  have  to  let  them  in  before  they  get 
us  on  our  backs  and  take  what  they  want,  which 
will  be  all  we  have  and  more — and  if  that  happens 
— it  will  do  none  of  us  any  good — them  least  of  all. 

"  So  I  want  you  to  help  me.  Not  to  help  me — to 
work  with  me.  To  work  for  yourself  with  me.  I 
want  to  give  you  everything  imaginable — you  and 
the  children.  And  I  know  there's  nothing  I  can 
give  you  equal  to  a  decent  deal  to  the  world;  a 
trial  at  helping  the  old  earth  to  adjust  itself  to  a 
sensible,  forward-looking  program,  in  which  brains 
and  muscles,  energy  and  genius,  family  and  new 
stock,  ditch-diggers  and  Union  Leaguers,  Yucatan 
huskies  and  Fifth  Avenue,  can  make  some  kind  of 
dim  start  toward  getting  together." 

She  drew  her  hand  gently  from  his.  She  went  to 
the  big  high  window  in  the  corner  and  half  parted 
the  hangings,  and  looked  out  into  her  own  heart, 

231 


THE  MAN,  THE  TIGER,  AND  SNAKE 

not  out  into  the  dark  street.  He  came  and  stood 
beside  her. 

"All  my  life,  dear,  I  seemed  to  have  been  striv 
ing  for  you, ' '  he  said  softly.  ' '  Always  wanting  you, 
reverencing  you,  loving  you,  Marcia,  above  every 
thing  else  in  the  world — the  fineness,  the  beauty, 
the  rightness  of  you.  It  is  all  crude  and  raw  out 
there  still,  but  work  is  pushing  on.  Come  with  me, 
Marcia — lovers  always,  but  friends  and  pals,  too!" 

She  turned  from  the  window.  Her  face  was  half 
in  shadow,  but  encircled  with  the  violet  gold  light 
of  the  tall  floor  lamp.  She  put  her  hands  on  his 
shoulders,  and  came  close  to  him. 

"Dear — dear!"  she  whispered,  and  as  he  drew 
her  still  closer  in  his  arms,  she  spoke  as  though 
passing  an  unconscious  comment  on  the  past.  "I 
have  been  so  lonely,  Cooper!  So  alone,  in  a  way, 
even  with  the  children,  that — oh,  my  dear! — it 
seems  now  I  am  coming  into  the  world  at  last!" 


THE   END 


232 


THE  STRANGENESS  OF 
NOEL  CARTON 

BY 
WILLIAM  GAINE 

"  A  remarkably  entertaining  novel." 

"If  the   author   is    entirely   sane    he    deserves   any 
number  of  laudatory  notices." 

"  The  author  has  handled  a  surprising  situation  with 
great  finesse." 

"He  has  given  us  characters  which  are  drawn  with 
a  master  hand  and  vividly." 

*'  The  book  is  original  and  exceedingly  well  done.     It 
is  a  joy  to  the  reviewer." 

New  York  Evening  Post 


"Mr.  Caine  has  written  a  startlingly  original  and 
compellingly  magnetic  story." 

"Will  stand  out  among  the  season's  fiction." 

"  It  will  leave  a  series  of  pictures  in  the  mind  of  the 
reader  that  will  endure  for  days." 

"It  is  a  remarkable  study  in  a  realm  of  practically 
uncharted  roads  in  fiction;  yet  it  has  the  force  of  an 
authentic  human  experience." 

New  York  Tribune 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 
NEW  YORK  LONDON 


KOBIETY 

(Women) 

by 
SOFJA  RYGIER-NALKOWSKA 

or  WARSAW 


New  York  World :  "Kobiety  is  a  most 
intimate,  most  inclusive  study  of  a 
woman's  soul  ...  a  brilliant  product." 

Philadelphia  North  American:  "A 
brilliant  study  of  the  neurotic  woman. 
.  .  .  The  story  discloses  a  writer  of 
remarkable  talent." 

New  York  Times :  "To  read  it  after  a 
long  course  of  the  mediocre,  superficial 
writing  through  which  a  reviewer,  in 
the  course  of  his  duty,  must  wade,  is 
like  emerging  from  the  subway  and 
drawing  pure  air  into  the  lungs.  .  .  . 
A  courageous  and  vivid  book." 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 

New  York  London 


The  Ivory  Fan 

By 

Adrian  Heard 

When  Lily  Kellaway  makes  the  observa 
tion,  "It  is  better  to  be  a  slave  to  a  man, 
which  is  natural,  than  to  a  woman,  which  is 
intolerable,"  she  recites  the  text  upon  which 
the  author  of  The  Ivory  Fan  has  built  up  a 
novel  that  is  at  once  humorous  in  its  cynicism 
and  cynical  in  its  humor.  At  the  same  time 
he  gives  us  a  pastel  of  certain  phases  of  life 
comprehensive  in  its  coloring  and  bitterly 
uncompromising  of  line. 

This  is  an  unconventional  book,  full  of  in 
cident  and  plenty  of  clever  dialogue. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


Too  Old  for  Dolls 

•r 

Anthony  M.  Ludovici 

The  story  of  a  "flapper"  too  old 
for  dolls,  scarcely  old  enough  for 
anything  else,  but  capable  of  en 
raging  her  older  sister  and  even 
her  mother  by  the  ease  with  which 
she  secures  the  admiration  of  their 
male  friends. 

"From  a  Mohawk,  from  a  sexless 
savage  with  tangled  hair  and 
blotchy  features,  she  had,  by  a 
stroke  of  the  wand,  become  meta 
morphosed  into  a  remarkably  at 
tractive  young  woman."  And 
with  the  change  came  a  discon 
certing  knowledge  of  power. 

A  very  real,  very  tense,  and  very 
modern  novel. 

G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

New  York  London 


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from  which  It  was  borrowed. 


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